


Gray Matter

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Comedy, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Sexual Content, Jo Ships It, M/M, Omega Dean, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: It should have been a night like any other night, but for Dean Winchester this evening was different.Tonight was his last on Earth.The omega finally snapped; the weight of his kills moonlighting as an assassin were too heavy to carry.  So he decided to set out to numb the pain with whiskey and the white noise of whatever seedy bar he randomly ambled into.  Although he’d intended to drown his sorrows alone, a bold alpha (who introduced himself as Castiel) wormed his way into his party-for-one, but more importantly: his story.After brazenly announcing that Dean’s plan to shoot himself in the head was “unoriginal,” the alpha lured him out into the bar to prove there are much more interesting and creative ways to go.A bizarre, deranged game turns into a night of passion, and leads Dean into introspective questions he never would've asked before.  Maybe everything wasn’t as black and white as he thought, maybe there’s more to his own story that he, himself, didn’t even know.  The stupid fucking alpha had transformed his world into shades of gray and made him doubt everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I couldn't be more excited to be participating for the second year in the DCBB! Gotta admit it was a lot easier the second time around :) 
> 
> Here are some notes and warnings before you get started!
> 
>  **Fic Notes** : This work is a _dark comedy._ The subject matter, hell, the whole plot **is** based around suicide (which comes with some violent material, but nothing too graphic), so if that's a trigger for you, consider yourself warned. However, it's not completely dark and dreary. The comedy part is just as prevalent...as is the smut. So! Read at your own risk, and please - remember this trigger warning.
> 
>  **Ann's Notes** : Hard to believe, but this is actually my very first oneshot in the SPN fandom! Of course it would be a 20k+ fic, right? But I'm used to writing super long fic, so this is quite an accomplishment for me :) Plus, I love that I'm able to be kicking off Big Bang season with some Destiel - one BB down, two to go!
> 
> A MILLION 'thank you's to [gaelicblue](http://gaelicblue.tumblr.com/), who beta read this fic and gave me so much support through the entire process! Whether it was with the work itself, moral support or just being a great friend along the way! Adore you, darling! You made the fic shiny AND preserved my sanity :) xoxo
> 
> Thanks also go to my talented artist [Nika](http://nikapics.tumblr.com/), for creating gorgeous pieces for this fic! Click the link, check out her work, she's fantastic <3

**  
**  
The streets were filled with drunk sorority girls on bar crawls, packs of people waiting in line to check out the opening of the newest club (omega, beta and alpha alike), and people like Dean.

Like Dean, they marched with a singular purpose: headed to a hole-in-the-wall bar with the intention of getting wasted.

The only difference being, while the others planned to call for a cab at the end of the evening and pass out at home or fall into someone else’s bed...Dean’s plans were very, very absolute.

Tonight was the omega’s last night on Earth.

He knew Hell was waiting for him below, and he was ready.

Even though it was a warm summer night, he was dressed in his dad’s favorite leather jacket as an homage to the old bastard who ran away from his children.  He was wearing his favorite pair of worn-in jeans in addition to the flannel button-up his brother gifted him for Christmas all those years ago.  Although it was a distant, faded memory - it was a tribute to Sam and the last thing he’d excitedly given him right before they cut off all communication.

Although Dean had a concealed weapons permit, he wasn’t packing the gun registered to him.

Tucked away and hidden from view was the gun he used to end people’s lives.  It only seemed fitting that it was the same one he would inevitably use to send a bullet through his own skull.

The omega’s double life had been taking a toll on him for a while now, wearing him down day by day, and finally the weight was just too much.  It crushed him.  He’d buckled under the pressure, and the only way out was…out.

Dean always imagined he’d go down swinging in a hit gone wrong.  He’d always _hoped_ that one of the marks (during his moonlighting as a gun-for-hire) would be ready and waiting to blow his brains out.  There was one simple fact that worked against him and these morbid fantasies.

He was just _too_ good at what he did.  

Even if something didn’t go according to plan, even if shit went sideways and got physical, Dean was trained in all types of fighting.  The final result would be a brief scuffle, ending in wrangling the target and bam!  Instant pay dirt.

He was sick of the game but he couldn’t easily quit; it didn’t work like that.  Dean couldn’t just hang up his proverbial hat, so he needed to find his own way out.  The omega knew in this type of business you didn’t just turn in your two week notice.  At that point, you became a liability.  People like him were seen as unfinished business - a loose end. His boss would think, “What if he cracked and went to the cops?”  Dean would obviously be the next target on the list and the cycle would continue.

There would be people after _him_ , and Dean would keep murdering.  Because the people hunting him were assassins. They were just as bad as he was, and he refused to give them the goddamn satisfaction of taking him out.  Shit, he might even enjoy it, a sick gratification and reflection of his self-loathing, by taking out someone just like him.  As some form of justice.  

No, it _had_ to be by his own hand.  He was too fucking stubborn for it to go down any other way.

Dean didn’t dream anymore.  When he laid down to sleep, all he saw was the life draining from the eyes of his victims as he landed that kill shot.  Even though he was fucking great at his job, it wasn’t always easy, clean or instantaneous.  Sometimes they bled out.  Sometimes they’d scream and demand to know why with their last breath.  To be honest, Dean never _knew_ why.

All that he knew was the mark’s name and address, along with the dollar amount on his paycheck, which was pretty twisted.  It meant he was broken.  If he cared at all, if he was even a halfway decent human being, he’d look them up.  Look into their history and see if they even _deserved_ what was coming to them.  He prayed at night, to a God he knew didn’t exist, hoping against hope that he might at least be doing some kind of vigilante justice.  But there was no goddamn way it was that easy.

With a heavy exhale, he ran a hand through his hair and took in his surroundings once again.  The more it sunk in, the more he recognized that he’d soon be free of this burden (hell, he’d be free of everything)...he felt a weight lifted.  He didn’t need to think about this, or much of anything, anymore.

Dean had settled on his definitive solution and he’d stick with it.  Frankly, he was too pigheaded to turn back now.

But he wasn’t going down before he had a stiff drink, also known as one (dozen) more rounds of whiskey.  He just needed to find the right joint to serve it up.

He knew the area pretty damn well.  He knew which bars were for the college kids and which ones were for the rave-type dance partiers on their way to too much ecstasy with their damn glow sticks followed by a possible trip to the hospital.  He knew of the musky biker hangouts and the upscale martini bars reeking of gag-worthy perfume.

Then there were the ones shilling cheap drinks and just on the right side of shady.

It was into one of these fine establishments that he turned in and made a sharp left.

A burly alpha bouncer nodded to him at the door and a staircase took him down to a spacious yet crowded bar.  It was one of those - where people could still get away with smoking indoors, and if you said the code words to one of the bartenders, you could score some coke.  The air was filled with so many different scents he’d blend right in, since he’d forgone his blockers tonight, not caring for once who knew he was an omega.  Everything was pungent to his nose and unless someone was right on top of him, they wouldn’t notice the designation he fought damn hard to hide.

But in a bar like this?  No one even gave a shit.  
  
His trek down the stairs gave him a good feel for the atmosphere but as he took a closer look he was surprised by the array of patrons.  It looked like a bachelorette party had accidentally wandered in, but didn’t want to leave quite yet because of the novelty of the surroundings.  Dean found himself scoffing, because if one of these women had been alone?  He didn’t want to be sexist, really, he didn’t.  But she could find herself in a wrong place/wrong time situation pretty damn quick.  
  
Given the rest of the swarming crowd, that is.  
  
Bikers, cokeheads, hookers and some guys with jackets stitched with well-known gang affiliation logos milled around.  Toss in some regulars who looked like they were straight out of the eighties and some kids looking to score and you had yourself a plethora of prime time people-watching material.

For the most part, this place was relatively tame (considering the part of town) with some danger around the edges.  There were definitely some people you didn’t want to crash into once you got a slight stagger in your step from the booze, because a bar fight could turn ugly, but you wouldn’t be drinking near those knotheads in the first place.  They’d behave, too.  Because this was one of the lesser known drug dens that the cops couldn’t be bothered with because in a city this size?  By comparison, this was small-fry business.

They had genuine large-scale drug operations to crack - runners and cartels to deal with this close to the border.  They had gangs to keep tabs on.  It was all “Breaking Bad” and “Sons of Anarchy” without the glamour and plot, just addiction and bloody violence.  

And, _oh yeah_ , they had hit men like Dean.  

Welcome to sunny Southern California.

Right as Dean was walking towards the bar, another couple was just leaving after receiving and paying for their drinks (plus a little something extra, if Dean’s keen senses didn’t deceive him).  He took one look at the vacated seats and eagerly hopped up, pasting on his best smile as the bartender sauntered over to him.

She was all Hollywood: painted skin, bleached out hair and had that devil-may-care attitude when she nodded her head and asked, “What’ll it be, sugar?”

It wasn’t unheard of for omegas like her to wear amplifiers to emphasize and tweak their scents.  This chick wasn’t naturally all that feminine or as glitzy as she tried to pull off.  She had an underlying, genuine lacing of woodsy pine and lavender in her scent that told Dean she was a transplant.  Not everyone would notice, but he had a sharp nose.  Yet, the sweet bite of pheromones were sprayed on to enhance her appeal to alphas and help her blend into the city.  

It was a ruse and it was all to generate better tips.

Dean hated how this life, this atmosphere, changed a person.

“Jameson.  Double.  You can leave the bottle,” he winked as she raised an eyebrow but swung around to fill his request.

Dean wasn’t settling for beer tonight.  He had a high-as-fuck tolerance, given the fact that he would typically grab a fifth after the rougher jobs.  Sometimes, it would take draining the whole thing to feel the dizzying numbness he needed at the end of the night to wipe away the images and knock him out cold.  
  
This strange relationship he’d forged between himself and a fucking container of amber liquid was familiar and the only thing that could calm Dean.  It would probably read as “It’s Complicated” on that stupid Facebook thing, when it was secretly something more.  Like teenagers playing cat and mouse games with each other when they were really obsessed.  Yep, that pretty much described Dean and his whiskey.

The omega bartender slid the glass over to him, followed it up by slamming the bottle down to grab his attention, and said casually, “Beautiful night.  What’s got you so worked up and out here by yourself?  I can _feel_ your isolation and titanium personal bubble from here.  Don't even have to try to scent you, dude.”

“Heh, who's to say I'm worked up?  What if this is a celebration?” Dean shook his head and tossed back the glass, the burn singeing his throat as he let himself feel everything - the last bits of sensation - of life he had left to experience.  “You ever been in something so deep?  So heavy?  And you finally, _finally_ found a way around it?”

That threw the woman for a loop and she hummed before reaching out to fill up his glass again.  “I think I’d call that avoidance.  I’m good at reading people, and this isn’t a victory.  This is something else.”

“Oh yeah?  What do you think this is, …?”  He paused for a second, prompting her.

The woman caught on and filled in the blank for him, “Jo.”  Then, with a hand on her hip, she tsked him and raised an eyebrow to announce, “You’re running.  You’re running away from something and you think escaping will help you, but it’s gonna follow you.”

He wagged a finger at her with an actual grin and stated, “See, _that’s_ where you’re wrong.  Ain’t nothing gonna follow me.  Yer right, maybe I am running.  But, see, Jo, I’m _damn_ fast.”

She laughed and shook her head, “What’s your name?” noticing she had other patrons to attend to, but was curious as to the strange, yet intriguing man sitting in her section.

“Dean,” he said easily, knowing with the amount of obituaries in the papers, she probably wouldn’t even make the connection once he was gone.  Who even read those, anyway?  He swished his glass and gestured, “Go refill the others.  I’ll make myself right at home and work on this bottle.”

She watched him for a few more seconds, like she was staring into his friggin soul, before she nodded and agreed, “I’ll come by and check on you, _Dean_.”

He gave her a small wave and turned back to the glass, studying the way the dim lighting cast a sparkle where the shot glass curved, before pressing the brim against his lips and tossing it back.  This time, now that he was filling his own mini-cup, he turned the double into a triple and frowned at it because now…it looked much more intimidating than before.  But what the hell, right?  
  


Just as he raised the drink to toss it back, he heard a voice next to him ask, “Is anyone sitting here?” and he’d be lying to say it didn’t make him jerk.

Half because it was dangerously close to his ear, half because he was lost in thought while staring at the whiskey.  God, he was boring.  And brooding.

Dean whipped around and stared dumbly at the man in front of him, because he’d been going for ‘unapproachable’ and then slowly stated, “Nope.  Free seat.”

“Good,” the stranger said in that deep voice and maneuvered up onto the bar stool, reaching out his hand almost too eagerly, “Hello, I’m Castiel.  It looks as though you’re having a party-for-one.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stated sheepishly and watched the man for a few seconds, taking in his features and scenting ‘alpha‘ to the highest degree.

He appeared friendly enough.  His dark locks were untamed, as though he’d been running his hands through them all day without any regard for the results and his eyes were so fucking blue.  They were a little red, like there may be drugs in his system, but nothing took away from how striking they were.  Yeah, Dean was _totally_ checking him out.  Because Castiel walked that line between ruggedly handsome and sexy, especially with the way he was dressed.

Tight skinny jeans, a well-loved Zepp t-shirt and a suit jacket.

It was only then that Dean realized that the alpha had gone straight for an introduction and, despite his reservations, he slowly said, “I’m Dean.  And, yeah, party-for-one.”

Castiel shifted his body and, tilting his head, gestured to the bottle and nonchalantly inquired, “Sure you don’t have room for one more?”

This was when Dean paused, even longer this time, and realized the two were in a stare-down - examining one another, scrutinizing each other.  Eventually, after Dean’s eyes landed on Cas’ lips, he paused and shrugged because - what the hell, right?  Why not go out with _another_ kind of bang?  Why else would this guy be coming over here, right?

He planted his heels on the bottom rung of the stool to gain height and leaned over the bar to shout, “Joooo!  Gonna need another glass over here, babe!”

Dean could see the woman roll her eyes, but she wore a small smile and called back in the same annoying tone, “I’ll be there in a second, Deeeeean!”

He plopped back down, and when he turned around he looked absolutely scandalized to see that Castiel had helped himself and downed his self-poured ‘triple.’  The omega stumbled over his words accusingly, “You can’t just do that!”

But with a mischievous grin, the alpha shrugged and only offered up, “Well, I just did.”

With narrowed eyes, Dean snapped, “It’s unhygienic.”

“Alcohol kills germs,” Castiel countered with a smirk.

“It’s rude.  Get yer own bottle!”  Dean lashed out and grabbed the Jameson, cradling it in his arms (already beginning to feel the affects of the alcohol) and sniping, “Thief.”

“I’ll buy the next one.”  The alpha said it as a peace offering, but Dean shot him an absolutely smug look when he turned the tables.

“How do you know I’ll want you around that long?  Pretty presumptuous, there, Cas.”

He leaned in close (as in, completely-invading-Dean’s-personal-space, close) when he whispered, “Because your scent tells me you find me attractive.”

The omega flinched away because…he hadn’t taken _that_ into account.  His damn out-in-the-open scent.  And then the reason _why_ he’d decided to skip the blockers that night niggled at the back of his brain all over again.  

He wanted to make sure when they found his dead body they could scent lingering relief, _not_ fear.  That he was exhausted and completely finished, not that he’d committed suicide out of some kind of threat so there wouldn’t end up being some kind of investigation.  Dean _needed_ to make sure that it was looked upon as a cut-and-dried suicide.

But, shit, it wasn’t as though he planned on being face to face with an alpha like this.  He was planning on being alone, but this turned the tables, and _dammit_ …the alpha was right on the nose when he brazenly called him out.

“Fuck you,” was Dean’s grumbled, mature response.

It lit up Castiel’s eyes and he seemed even more proud of himself, but didn’t respond verbally because that was right around the time Jo appeared and slid another glass in front of them.

“So I see you found yourself a friend,” she said with a shit-eating grin and Dean wanted to smack his head against the bar top.  “A cute one, too.”

“Thank you, Jo,” Castiel smiled kindly at her, having heard Dean when he shouted her name across the space.  “I’m not sure if he’d consider me a friend.  Thus far, it looks like I’ve annoyed him more than anything else.”

“Good.  He needs someone to distract him from his moping.”  She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she added, “He’s been a downer so far.”

“Have not,” the omega protested, but was shot down by two patronizing stares at once and relinquished his grip on the fifth.

“Get some more liquid courage into him, I’m sure he’ll come around,” Jo shot a significant look at Castiel who nodded conspiratorially.

“That’s been my plan.”

“Dear Lord, help me,” Dean buried his face in his hands, because _his_ current plan was going to shit.

Now, he didn’t just have one person to deal with, to get off his back, but _two_.  

And they were very, very persistent.  

Although, he didn’t mind the eye candy sitting on his right, who was blatantly flirting, and causing the wheels in his head to begin to spin faster.  Because the way Cas was looking at him…it made the idea of having one more night of friction, of a hot body and the feel of another person on top of him, more and more appealing by the second.

If that’s what Castiel _was_ doing (which he assumed) and wasn’t _just_ here to harass him.

That’s when Jo excused herself again, and the alpha took up the duty of refilling both their glasses.

He commented, a bit more seriously, “I’m not here to annoy you, you know,” and slowly met Dean’s eyes when he set the bottle down.  “Tell me your story.”

“Heh,” Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you don’t want to know.”

“But I do.”  His gaze reached all the way down into Dean’s damn soul, just as Jo had, as he sipped at the whiskey rather than downing it like a shot.  “Why are you here tonight?  Are you drowning your sorrows?  Are you looking for someone?  Give me a hint.”  Castiel smoothly added, “So I know the best way to approach you, that is.”

Dean mulled over the question, not to mention the alpha’s odd line of reasoning, and glanced up at Cas with a shrug of his shoulders, “I wasn’t looking for someone.  You just happened to find me.  Now, the real question.  What are you planning on doing with me?”

“I told you,” there was the slightest upturn of a smile on the corner on his lips, “I want to know more.  Now that I know you don’t want me to leave quite yet.”

“I’ll give ya that one,” the omega admitted.  And, you know what?  The more Dean thought about it, the more he said fuck it, taking a shot of Jo’s ’liquid courage’ and physically shaking off the burn.  He kept his voice light and playful as he fully divulged, “See, I’m here for atonement for my crimes against humanity.  I’m a mercenary and it’s my last night on Earth.  Drinking my favorite booze, chatting with a hot guy, takin’ in all my guilty pleasures before my story ends.”

“Hmm,” Castiel examined him with a nod, “very interesting.  Are you Deadpool but you somehow managed to keep your handsome face intact?”

“Hah!  I wish.  That’d be nice.  No superhero powers, just real good with a firearm,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and finally decided to yank the metal pourer-top-thingy off the whiskey and take a chug straight from the bottle.  “What about you?”

“Well,” the alpha looked thoughtful, drumming his fingers on the table before he finished the drink he’d been nursing.  Then he took the bottle and duplicated Dean’s deep swallow.  “I’m a homicide detective.  But I don’t think I’ve run across any of your kills, so at least we don’t have any conflict of interest.  My jurisdiction is a bit north of here and my record is _very_ good.  I don’t mean to brag, but I have very few cold cases.”  Castiel finished in a mischievous tone, “I believe we’ll get along just fine.”  Then a Cheshire-grin stretched across his face and he said,  “Do you wear a suit or costume, at least?  I believe green would look stunning on you.”

“Been meaning to get one,” Dean actually laughed out loud, “But all the good designs are taken.  If I could steal one?  It’d be Batman’s.  Scratch that, I’d be Batman’s evil _twin_.”

“Good choice,” Castiel chuckled along, “I’ve always enjoyed Batman.  Almost as much as Spiderman.”

“Blasphemy!”  The omega gasped dramatically and used his hand to cover his mouth.  He dropped it again and in a harsh voice accused, “No one is better than Batman!”

With a fond shake of his head, the alpha leaned backward a bit and sighed, “We cannot help who we enjoy, Dean.  It’s in our nature.  Like my immense attraction to you.”

Dean’s jaw dropped open a bit before he slammed it shut and shook his head.  “ _That’s_ the best line you’ve got?  C’mon, Cas.  Give me some _good_ pick-up lines.  Yours suck.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never fared well at picking people up.  Conversation, perhaps.  Seduction?  It’ll take me another few shots to get warmed up.”

Very intently and dramatically, Dean slid him the bottle with the challenge of, “Do your worst,” as though he was throwing down the gauntlet.

With a wicked smile, Castiel wrapped his hand around the bottle and nodded his head, “Be careful what you wish for."

\---------------------------

To be completely honest, Dean never thought that tonight of all nights, he’d be _laughing_.  Having full-out belly laughs dragged from his body and doubling-over to the point of tears.  But between Jo and Castiel?  These two had a _talent_.  Whether it was clever quips, hilarious one-liners or downright hysterical stories - this interaction right here - made his trip to this random bar worthwhile.

Castiel played up the homicide detective card with a keen eye, admonishing a surprised Jo when he witnessed her sliding a shady client a gram, but assuring her that he took his “off the clock” work very seriously.  It also “pertained to Dean’s claims” that it was his “last night on Earth,” when he’d normally have to arrest him for it.

That was when things took a turn for the downright _bizarre_.

The man leaned into Dean, and instead of playfully running his hands through his hair or trailing a light touch down his neck (as he’d managed to sneak in a few times so far), nonchalantly asked, “How are you planning on doing it?”

At first, the omega watched him in confusion and inquired, “Doing what?”

“Killing yourself.  Isn’t that the whole point of tonight?”  His voice held no judgement, just pure curiosity and he was still watching Dean with a barely-contained hunger.

As he had been for a while now.  

Because Castiel hadn’t been kidding when he said that after he got boozed up, his _seductive side_ came out to play.  And, _damn_ , the alpha was good.  He was very casually, yet deliberately physical in the teasing sense, and it was pushing all the right buttons with the omega.

But Cas’ question-

It puzzled the fuck out of Dean.  Did the alpha not take him seriously?  Or had the liquor (now coursing through his system) that had made him bold with touch and flirtation _also_ made him curious?  Either way, it was the oddest topic to want to discuss.  It was most definitely in the top five strangest things he’d ever been asked in his life.

Maybe even top three.

And even more baffling was the fact that Dean just didn’t give a fuck about answering him truthfully.

So he made a gun with his fingers, lifted it to his temple and drew out a husky, “Boom.”

Castiel huffed a snicker (an _actual_ fucking _snicker_ ) and tossed his head back.  “That’s not very original.  From what I’ve learned about you tonight, I would have expected something a bit more…creative.”

Which had Dean’s eyes widening comically and lips stumbling over the demand, “ _Excuse me_?  Did you just _critique_ my suicide plan?”

“I did, indeed,” he said proudly, taking another shot.  “A noose, pills, a gun.  They’re so…trite.  Overdone.”

“What?  You expect me to dance a jig into traffic while I get a gang of people to record me on snapchat with some kinda flower crown filter?”  The omega narrowed his eyes dangerously.  “What the hell kinda-”

“Excuse me,” Castiel ignored him, turning toward the woman on his right with the same flirtatious expression he’d been using on Dean still written all over his face.  And didn’t _that_ just completely rub Dean the wrong fuckin’ way?  “What’s your name?”

The brunette looked wary for a half a second, but after she gave him a once-over (a very deliberate, predatory once-over), it transformed into very, _very_ interested look.  “I’m Meg.  How about yourself, cutie?”

Dean seethed internally, because this was exactly the kind of chick who looked like she could be a regular here.  Dressed in midnight black from head to toe, in sharp onyx heels, with messy curls, barely salvaged from the night before.  Not to mention her pretty face, burgundy lipstick and eyes lined with smudged charcoal.  And in her hand was the coded drink of mixed liquor that signaled she had bought drugs from behind the bar.  

Dean’s hackles rose right away, because what the hell was Cas doing?  He didn’t like it one friggin bit-

“My name’s Castiel.”  His posture was warm and inviting as he gestured back to the omega, “My friend Dean and I have a bet of sorts going.  If you were to kill yourself, how would you do it?”

“Cas!”  Dean was overwhelmingly shocked by the alpha’s tactlessness, and chastised him with a rough punch to the shoulder, “You can’t just _ask_ people that!”

But at the same time, the woman looked thoughtful then admitted, “Hmm...I’ve never thought about killing myself.  Figured I’d just meet my end in a freak accident, because my life is a hot mess of irony.  If _I_ had to do it?  _Personally_?”  She paused to think as she sipped her mixed drink.

Dean was completely at a loss as Castiel glanced back at him, looking smug because Meg was _actually_ playing along.

“Used to rock climb.  The Grand Canyon has this natural open space, like a doorway, called the Angel Window,” she said with a grin.  “It’s kinda far out there, it’d be a helluva scale, but if I could make it?  I’d stand right in there, right in that stone frame, then dive down into the pit.  Kind of a poetic.  See if heading through the gateway would absolve me of my sins and save me from Hell, since I’ve never been much of a believer.”  She snorted and shrugged, “It’d be a fun way to go out.  Make some headlines, right?  “Crazy Bitch Climbs, Then Swan Dives.”  I’ve always wanted to make the papers.”

“See!”  The alpha clapped his hands together.  “ _That’s_ what I’m talking about!  Something original!  Creative!  Thank you, Meg, you’ve been a _wonderful_ help!”

“Does that mean I get a reward?”  She purred, leaning in closer to Cas, and it was all Dean could do to keep from growling and grabbing handfuls of the alpha’s coat to yank Castiel back towards _him_.

But the alpha grinned charmingly and said, “Rest of your drinks are on me, darling.”

Although that wasn’t quite the answer she was looking for, Meg could tell the omega had him on the hook tonight and settled for free booze easier than Dean would have imagined.  Which…made him ridiculously happy.  He didn’t want anyone even talking to Cas, let alone hitting on him and the alpha became even cockier once he scented the wafting hint of jealousy.

Instead of commenting and rubbing it in face, which Dean totally thought he was going to do, things took a completely _different_ turn he couldn’t have anticipated.

Castiel took Dean’s hand and squeezed it with wild glee in his eyes, deciding straight away, “We’re going to make _a game_ of this!”

Dean was so distracted by the contact he automatically squeezed back, but the words didn’t register.

Not until Castiel pulled him from the bar and began scanning the floor, Jo calling after them, “I’ll save your seats, jackasses!”

The alpha was on a mission and Dean was just along for the ride, buzzed and his brain swimming in confusion, as they darted through the crowd.  It wasn’t until they were in motion that the omega actually realized what kind of boneheaded stunt Cas thought he was pulling, or _about_ to pull, and Dean had no idea how he had gotten himself into this mess…

The alpha was strategic in how he began to choose people from the crowd.  Castiel would scent the air, determining how intoxicated they were and how willing they’d be to play this warped “game.”  It was the perfect pastime for those with a dark sense of humor; Dean gave him that.

As they worked their way across the floor, they heard a variety of interesting replies when Cas dropped the question he‘d asked Meg on unsuspecting strangers like it was no big deal.

And Castiel and Dean were in a deadlock in this contest between the “innovative” and the “mundane” -- or as the alpha called it -- the “Abstract Suicide Match.”

A man named Balthazar chuckled and led with, “I just binge-watched American Horror Story: Freakshow.  Perhaps I’d run away and join the circus.  Learn how to be launched from a cannon as my act.  Then pay off one of the carnies to stuff two real cannon balls in alongside me as a human sandwich.  I bet that‘d make for a jolly good show.   _Imagine_ the fireworks and body parts!”

Dean winced at the image:  the explosion of guts and gore acting like gruesome confetti.  Then after the explosion, the eerie carnival music playing on in the background… Cas patted the man on the back heartily, congratulating him on a job well done as they moved on.

One woman so taken so completely off guard by the question that it took her a few solid minutes to gather herself after the burst of laughter that enveloped her entire petite frame.  This was one of the reactions they got most often when people didn’t realize the inquiry was serious - awkward laughter.  But this woman’s laughter was so _genuine_ that it struck Dean as very peculiar.

Her mate explained, “We’re celebrating, and Amelia’s…a lightweight.  I just got back from deployment.  There was a span of time while I was gone...that they, uh, mistakenly tagged the wrong guy as KIA.  She thought I was a…casualty overseas.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed and elbowed Castiel, “we’re sorry, this isn’t something to joke about, you-”

“No!  It’s _great_!”  Amelia finally came out of her laughing fit, still giggling, “Already being so close to death, hell, I already experienced it, in a way.  Now that I can joke about it?  It’s _amazing_!”  She wrapped her arms around her mate’s middle, squeezing him tight, and hummed, “If I was going to go out, I’d take Don down with me.  But it’d be tough.  Apparently, my alpha’s damn hard to kill.”

“I am,” he confirmed, and Dean couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at the way he looked at her.

That, right there, was _true_ love.  

 _True mates_. 

Amelia wasn’t joking when she said she’d already experienced death.  The news of losing a mate like that was something so hard to come back from.  Feeling the devastation…

 _No_.  Dean stopped his train of thought right there.

“I’m thinking something romantic,” Amelia sighed in a deliberately dreamy way, leaning her head on his shoulder, then snaking the booze from his hand and taking a hearty chug.  “Like, Romeo and Juliet, romantic.”

“Poison and a dagger?”  Castiel suggested conversationally, raising an eyebrow.  “How about location?”

“Where he proposed to me,” she was wearing a simply devious grin as she flashed her ring proudly, “ _before_ we mated.”

With a theatrical roll of his eyes, Don asked, “Is that because you’re lazy, or because you think it’s honestly romantic?”

There was a moment when she almost fell over, but never missed a beat when she slurred, “Both!  At least we’d be comfortable!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”  There was nothing but fondness in his tone when Don stage-whispered, “Apparently, we’d be in bed.”

“Better than a tomb,” Dean shrugged and chuckled, “I’d take a mattress over a slab of rock any day.  Don’t blame her,” he winked at Amelia, but was surprised when Don addressed him directly.

“Where did you serve?  Your name was Dean, right?”  The alpha looked surprisingly interested, and even took a step closer to speak to him.

“I, uh,” he was at a loss of words, because while Castiel’s game was one thing, he _did not_ want to talk about his time in the service.  But he had one thing on his side that he could play up, at least for tonight.  With his mask firmly in place he swatted at the man and squinted, “I didn’t.  Do you know how hard it is for _omegas_ to get into the military, dude?  Probably couldn’t have, even if I wanted to.”

“ _Oh_ , yeah, sorry,” Don looked sheepish and brushed it off.  “You just have that _look_ , you know?  You can tell.  I forgot about the omega thing, sorry about that.  I didn't mean to be rude.”

“It’s all the paintball we play,” Castiel interrupted smoothly.  “He’s _merciless_ and a brilliant strategist.  Not to mention the way he orders me around,” he rolled his eyes with a goofy grin.  “It was wonderful to meet you two and I’m happy everything worked out.  Have a great night!”

The way the alpha took the heat off him so flawlessly had Dean thankful and curious, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Because Castiel was on the move.

A-fucking-gain.

He was on goddamn hunt, the truth was the alpha was relentless, and soon they were standing in front of yet another couple.

These two were betas.  The woman looked completely out of place, her outward appearance (or _energy_ ) would have suggested she was hopped up on coke if her scent didn’t tell them otherwise, and the man just looked…trashed.

“Ooh, a game!  I _love_ games!”  Becky (apparently just mildly drunk, not coked out) seemed utterly giddy and clapped her hands together in excitement.  Until Cas filled her in on the details of their quest, and she wilted, looking at him as though he’d grown another head.  “ _Why_ would I think about how I would…?”

Chuck snorted and tittered to himself, instantly saying, “Well, if _I_ wanted to do the deed, I’d just reconnect with my _sister_.  She’d scratch my eyes out, dig into my chest cavity, rip out my heart and then burn the body.”

“Oh.  Wow.”  Dean blinked openly at his honesty.  “No lost love in the fam, there?”

Becky’s eyes doubled in size and she began shaking her head so quickly they thought it may fall off, “He is _not_ kidding!  Amara would murder him in a second!  Without thinking!  He already had to change his name, move away and start a new life to get away from her.  Wait,” she narrowed her gaze into a suspicious squinting glare, “ _you’re_ not… _you’re_ not looking for _him_ , are you?!  Did _she_ send you?!  Oh my gosh!   _Get away from him_!”

“Becks, I really don’t think-” Chuck tried to calm his girlfriend down, “she wouldn’t actually-”

“Yes, she would!  They _reek_ of private investigators!”  Her voice rose in volume, and Dean and Cas shared a look, realizing that shit was about to go downhill fast, and it was time to get the hell out and abandon ship.

“Thanks for participating!”  Dean blurted, and they made a hasty escape.

Navigating the bar - ducking and dodging through the crush of bodies - was something that they both did with a slight stagger in their steps.  When Dean almost crashed into Cas after he came to an abrupt stop, the alpha caught him with a hand on his hip as he was holding his drink with the other.  The firm, assertive grip made Dean’s heart skip a beat.  For as much as this alpha was both good-natured and good-spirited (not once making the omega uncomfortable with all that macho posturing bullshit) _goddamn_ , he was _strong_.  Dean could feel it all with that one innocent, yet firm touch.

And that may or may not have sent a thrill through the omega.  Just that one grasp, just that moment of force, sent heat flaring up his spine - because, just as quickly, Castiel was obviously responding to Dean’s friggin scent.  The alpha’s hand melted like butter against Dean’s side until it was a welcoming curve, circling around his back.  He paired it with a smile, to pull him forward and...Dean couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

Shit, he was reading the omega like an open book, but Dean couldn’t be held accountable for his actions, all right?!

The lack of blockers, the lack of inhibitions, and the sheer hotness that was Castiel?

Everyone and their mother would be doing the same thing.

Earlier in night, Dean couldn’t help but to catch whiffs of Castiel’s true scent due to their close proximity during their stupid little game (you had to stand pretty damn close to hear one another over the volume of the bar noise, _duh_ ).  He was wearing some light blockers, but not the ones that could really touch his _alpha_ scent.  And, oh, it was _amazing_.

But being _this_ close?  Cas holding him and experiencing the heat of their sides pressed against one another and feeling the arm muscles hidden under that jacket, just looped around his waist?  Practically breathing the same air in this stolen moment?

Dean was worried he’d be begging to leave soon, much too soon, and he really wanted to spend as much time with Castiel as he could before that happened.  So before their lips could brush, just before he ended up saying something he regretted and wrapping up the night too early (even if his _body_ would’ve liked things to go another way), he boldly tugged on Cas’ jeans, but then stupidly blurted out, “Hey, I gotta pee,” like an idiot.  At that point, he felt like he _had_ to commit to it with a, “Be right back.”

“I’ll meet you back at the bar,” Cas gestured to his empty glass, wetting his lips with that tempting tongue.  “Gonna have Jo refill me.  You want one?”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

He all but shoved his glass into the alpha’s hand, turned on his heels and stalked off.

Dean could hear light laughter in the background, but chose to ignore it because his cheeks were already turning red and he needed a break to collect himself.  The omega tried to relax his pace, because he probably looked like a damn soldier marching off to war and had to remind himself that this was supposed to be fun.  That this was good.  And it was.

 _Too_ fun.   _Too_ good.

When he threw the bathroom door open, the scent of cocaine and pills didn’t bother him.  He went right to the sink and turned on the faucet.  He filled his cupped palms with water and splashed his face, making sure it was ice cold because he felt like his blood was about to boil over.  Dean was responding to Castiel more than he realized, much more than he wanted to and it was both positive and negative.

At least they were on the same page.  They both understood that there would be no second date.  At least the alpha was well aware this was a one time thing, and Dean didn’t have to worry about sneaking out.  He could waltz away after and there would be nothing stopping him.

Castiel knew the game plan.  And that, in and of itself, was _goddamn ridiculous._

How did Dean manage to get himself into this mess?

He ran a hand through his already fucked up hair then gripped the bowl of the sink until his knuckles turned white, just staring at his reflection in the pitted mirror.  The omega briefly wondered what he would look like in his casket.  He already knew they painted the corpses with makeup to give them the appearance of life.  Would his freckles be caked in foundation and covered?  Would they, God help him, put lipstick on his pallid, blue-white lips?  

Fuck no.  He’d have to make sure to do the job _properly_.  Make sure it was a closed-casket funeral.  Then what picture would they set out in remembrance?  One from his time in the Marines?  Even though he fucking hated it with a passion.  Even though that was the _exact_ thing that had _ruined him_.  Even though he had denied his time in the service when Don called him out.  

Because...that was what carved him into the killing machine he was today.  

Maybe the one thing he had overlooked was writing a will detailing his final wishes about these sorts of things...shit.

Who would be the one to decide what to bury him in?  Would that fall on Sam?  But…Sam hated him.  Sam would probably would find some pastel pink polka-dotted suit to put him in, just for spite.

But Dean would never know.

So he wouldn’t care…

But that was _later_.  Right now, he had other things to think about, other things to do.  And if tonight continued on the way it was going now, that would soon become _very_ literal.  Except, _things_ to do would become “ _who_ to do.”

There was a goofy smile on his face, but at least the somewhat morbid, but genuine, internal musings had steered him back on course and away from his teenage-girl-meltdown.  So he wasn’t a total nut job.

After all, back in the day he was suave.  He knew all about the fine art of seduction.  He had been an unstoppable sensual force, a full-on charm offensive, but that had been a long, long, long time ago.  It didn’t really shock him that Castiel had gotten a leg up in this personal interaction.  

But in the bedroom?  That’s where Dean could shine.  He was certain of it.  Just…as soon as he turned this awkward mess of a mating dance around.

Looking in the mirror, he winked and then very deliberately addressed himself with a, “You got this, Winchester.”

“Got that lovely alpha by your side?  Why, _yes_ , I suppose you _do_ ,” a familiar voice teased from over his shoulder.

Dean spun around to see Mr. Carnage-Carnival-Man giving him an appraising look and blanched before feeling his ears began to turn red at getting called out.

 _Great_.  Fuckin’ _great_.

“Yep.”  Dean stated assertively, popping the ‘p’ before sighing dramatically, “Just wondering how long I should wait to reel ‘im in.”

“Oh, _darling_.  The hook’s set.  I wouldn’t wait too long.”  Then, obviously to be an ass, he added, “Wouldn’t want whiskey dick to be a problem later now, would you?”

With a forced grin, Dean grabbed the door handle and tossed over his shoulder, “I’ll keep that in mind,” before leaving the bathroom.  

Although he had a perfectly barbed insult right on the tip of his tongue, Dean didn’t give in.  He wanted a refill, dammit, not a bar fight.

Castiel was just where he said he’d be, and there was a shot as well as a mixed drink waiting for him when he returned to the bar.

It was Jo who interjected, “I’m cutting you two off from straight whiskey.  You guys need to dilute this shit.  I can see the way you two were slipping and sliding out there.  This is a bar, not a hockey rink.”

When Dean hopped up on the bar stool and took a sip, he made a face and glared, “Whiskey and coke?   _Really_?  Why not just add water?  That works for diluting and doesn’t make me feel like a fuckin’ woman.”

“Be careful with your words,” the blonde pointed a sharp finger at him before she leaned forward towards them.  “So, who’s winning?  What’s the score?”

Castiel drug his eyes over Dean not-so-subtly before he turned back to the bartender and admitted, “Pretty even.  Although reasonings are different, the core subject is what we’re counting points for.”  He tapped his shot against the omega’s and suggested, “I plan on winning, you know.  And I’ll cheers you to that.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean wore a smug grin in retort and they tossed their drinks back.

Now that they were back in their seats at the bar, Castiel glanced at their surroundings.  Meg appeared to be long gone and there were new people sitting at the bar surrounding them.  One woman on Castiel’s side kept sneaking glances right on past him and was batting her lashes at Dean.  Which had the alpha feeling all kinds of possessive, even though he didn’t have to posture in front of the beta, because that would be ridiculous and he knew it.

It did, however, make her fresh meat.

Cas didn’t bother to turn on the charm, but he did scoot his stool back, so she could openly gawk at Dean and be included in their conversation when he asked, “Hello, Miss.  Couldn’t help but notice you’re listening in.”

“Oh, I didn’t really mean to,” she shook her head and turned her body a bit to join, “but when I hear anything about a competition, I can’t help but become curious.  I’m Lisa, by the way.”

She was looking directly at the omega, who flashed his most winning smile and waved, “I’m Dean.  This is Cas.  Yeah, we are in the middle of a little…bet.  You could call it.  But it’s stupid, don’t trouble yourself about-”

“How would you kill yourself?”  Castiel interrupted him, completely deadpan, staring her straight in the eyes without pretense.

“ _Excuse_ me?!”  She looked appalled and physically jolted back as though she had been burned, “There’s _no way_ -!”

“Come on, you’ve never even mulled-”

A hearty ‘thwack’ sounded as Lisa slapped Castiel right across the face and snapped, “I have a son!  I’d _never_ leave him, I’d _never-_!”

“Is that why you’re here every other night?  Looking for a new father for him?”  Jo crowded up in the woman’s personal space.  “How are all those “potentials” you take home working out for your son?  Oh, wait!  Those are just for your vagina.”

Lisa huffed and stood up, grabbing her drink with an indignant expression and stalked away.

The alpha was purely amused, Jo grinned and Dean finally let the dam break on his laughter.

He slapped the table as he chortled, “I’ve been waiting for that!  Just fuckin’ waiting!”  He reached out to grab Castiel’s chin, tilting his face to see if her flap had left a mark.  “You _so_ deserved that, you little shit.  Nice catch on that one, Jo!”

Castiel’s cheek was a bit red, but it was nothing in the grand scheme of things, and the three couldn’t help but crack up.  And being this close to the alpha again…Dean’s eyes flickered down to his mouth (motherfuck, he couldn’t keep away) for the barest of seconds before he swallowed and diagnosed, “You’ll live,” before drawing back after lingering too, too long.

With a tilt of his head, Castiel unconsciously followed Dean’s retreating hand, but abruptly stopped himself, before asking, “Ready to head back out?”

“With my girly drink?”  He sharply snapped his attention to Jo, “Why the fuck not?”

The alpha grabbed his hand and pulled him away to begin round two without a hint of hesitation.

\------------------------------

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t be going out alone,” scoffed a man in a suit he wore just as proudly as his obvious arrogance as he continued, “I’d be taking my mother out with me.  That bitch has been making a mockery of me for quite some time.”  His name was Crowley, and he sipped his top-shelf scotch while a scheming grin worked its way across his features, in a way neither Castiel or Dean was entirely comfortable with.

“The woman’s a witch.  A black widow.  Has made god-awful amounts of money tricking men into marriages without prenups.  Two ended in divorce.  One ended in death.  I believe I’d use that to my advantage and corner her at one of her summer homes.”  Even if he was making it up as he went, he was much, much too good at this game.  “Scuba diving."

“Pardon?”  Dean tried not to balk, taken aback by the plot twist.  After all, how was something as innocent as scuba diving a means to _the_ end?

“One of her lavish homes is on the ocean,” Crowley explained as he swished his drink in his cup.  “I’d need the scuba gear and a shark cage.”

Even Castiel was gaping openly and wasn’t following Crowley’s line of reasoning.

“All right. Scuba gear usually entails breathing underwater, unless it’s faulty,”  the alpha pronounced slowly.

“Precisely.  I’d take us out on her boat. Oh, I’d have to chloroform her first, because she’d never go with me willingly.  Then, we’d head to the reef where the sharks gather.  I’d get us both geared up, but for Mother...oh, I’d tie a weight to her leg, slice into her and drop her to the bottom of the reef.  Then, I’d hop into a shark cage and watch as they tear into her.  Eventually, we’d both run out of oxygen and it would be all over, but I’d have a jolly good show of the sharks feasting on her flesh on the way out.”

The silence stretched out ominously as the pair watched Crowley nod to himself, chuckle and take a long sip as he confirmed, “Yes.  That is my answer.”

“Okay,” Dean moved slowly as he began to back away.

“That is a…very _unique_ concept.”  The alpha mirrored Dean as he awkwardly followed the other man and they disappeared back into the crowd without another word.  
  
Crowley barely noticed.  He was too busy laughing to himself with a satisfied smile playing around his lips, still caught up in the fantasy.  Castiel made a mental note to look into Crowley’s history when he was “back on the clock…”

It wasn’t until they were completely out of view that they turned to one another, exchanging ghastly looks.  Dean slapped Castiel’s arm, reprimanding, “And _this_ is how you find psychopaths!  The hell was that?!”

“It was…” a tiny grin began to bloom on Cas’ face as he announced, “a point for me?”

“You are unbelievable!”  The omega threw his arm in the air with a grunt, “of course you would-”

But Castiel pressed two fingers to his lips and quieted him right away.  “I _believe_ I’m up a point.”

Dean tried his damnedest not to blush, instead turned the tables for the first time that night and flicked his tongue over the digits against his mouth.  The alpha pulled away, finally caught off guard, and his scent flared up with surprise and a hint of lust he tried to hide as quickly as it manifested.

With a visible gulp, Castiel managed the words, “Don’t you want to win, Dean?”

“Oh, I plan on it,” the omega said with a look that made it crystal clear that he was talking about more than just the game at hand, and finally Castiel rolled his shoulders and came back to himself.

“You do, don’t you?  Well in that case, let’s go have some more fun.”

\---------------------------

When Cas crashed (more like dive-bombed) a cluster of patrons that looked completely out of place at this kind of bar, just for the fun of it, at first they all looked disgruntled and offended.   But once he asked the hot-topic question, a few of them paused to think about it just because of how startled and shaken they were by the inquiry.  Apparently, with their guards lowered in surprise, it was easier to scale the walls of their ivory towers, or some such shit.

A woman named Anna shrugged and stated bluntly, “I’d sneak into my sister’s medicine cabinet and snatch up all her pain pills.  God knows she’s got a _pharmacy_ in there.  It‘d be easy.”

Some chick named Hannah chewed her lip and said, no doubt prompted by the mention of family, “I’d wish to make it look like an accident.  I wouldn’t want those who cared for me and loved me to think it was their fault in some way or to have to live with the burden of me killing myself.  I wouldn’t want them to think they could have done something to stop it by but didn’t. I don’t know, perhaps drowning during a night swim in rough waters?  My brakes going out in my car?”

“Mm, I agree with that,” the man in the group, Gadreel, nodded along.  “If I reached that point, it would be my choice and mine alone.  I’d want to make sure those I left behind felt no guilt.  I’d try to make it look like an electrical fire in my house.”

“Or by heading into the dangerous district of the city!”  An omega, Charlie (Dean was pretty sure) piped up.  “Like, where you know the cartels are?  Have a purse full of cash and a handgun, but no bullets.  Then when they try to rob you, fight like hell and provoke them until you end up bleeding out and broke.  Can’t call for help if they’ve got the purse, ‘cause that’s where your cell phone is.”

“Wow.  That just got really intense,” Dean said, eyebrows furrowed, “What would happen if they got you in the leg or arm, or something like that?  Then you’d be outta cash with a sky-high hospital bill, and it’d just…suck.”

“Meh, you’d end up dead sooner or later.   _Or_ maybe you have one bullet, keep threatening them with the gun, have really shitty aim and they’ll hopefully land another shot?”  She shrugged and sipped her vodka cranberry.  “Some place more fatal?  Even if it’s not, two holes’ll bleed out quicker than one.”

“I knew they’d warm up to us,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear, before he raised his voice and announced, “Thank you for participating in our drunken bar study!”

The alpha looped his arm through Dean’s and leaned in close, “I believe we’re still at a stalemate.  This woman,” he gestured to gorgeous brunette exiting the bathroom, “will be our tie-breaker.”

“Ready to give up already?”  The omega teased as they veered their course to cross her path.

“No, not necessarily.  I just want to get a few more drinks at the bar with Jo.”  His answer was strangely non-committal and Dean saw right through it.

What he meant was that he wanted to spend more time with _Dean_ and he wasn’t going to say that out loud.  A bit of arrogance thrived inside the omega, because he knew he was finally stepping up his game and holding his own.  He wasn’t completely at the mercy of the alpha.  Nor was he opposed to spending more time with him one-on-one.  After all, it wasn’t Dean’s idea to roam the bar, harassing strangers with even stranger questions all night.

While it was certainly out-of-the-box and a unique way to spend his last night on earth, he could think of better ways to go about it.

And more time with Cas was definitely one of them.

When they stepped in front of the woman, she drew to a halt and narrowed her eyes, like they were displeasing to every one of her senses.  “What do you want?” was her biting demand and she huffed as she put her hands on her hips.

“You’re our tie-breaker,” was Cas’ calm and collected reply, “Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you.  We just wanted to ask you a question.  What’s your name?”

“Is that your tie-breaker?  Asking for names?”  Her voice was heavy with sarcasm but she still introduced herself, “I’m Ruby.  Now, what is it?” clutching her purse closer to her body.  “Hurry it up, you’re between me and my drink at the bar.”

Dean whistled low and turned to Cas, “We don’t have to-”

“If you were to end your life, what method would you choose?”  The alpha changed his wording every time he asked the question, in order to appeal to the particular person, but Dean wasn’t sure why he used this poised and serene way to speak to Ruby.

Maybe it was to keep _himself_ calm?  That was the only reason Dean could come up with to justify it.

She broke down cackling when the words registered with her and gave them a _different_ kind of answer for the first time that night.

With a cutting grin, Ruby readily admitted, “When I was younger, I gave it the good ol’ college try with a heroin overdose.  Undershot it.  God, the hospital, withdrawals and rehab was nothing to fuck around with.  But I found my way back, you know?  I don’t think I’d attempt it again.  Sorry, guys, don’t think I can help with your little tie-breaker.”

She waved and swung her hips as she moseyed back to join her friends near the bar.

That…was the first time anyone had openly _denied_ them.  

And it was then Castiel gave the omega a significant look.

But…Dean wasn’t phased.  Drugs and murder were two different things, two different reasons, two different levels of dire.  Her words did nothing to sway him, and if that was the alpha’s plan all along?  He was a fucking fool.

Dean finally took the lead to carry on with the game and challenged, “You’re not done yet, are you, alpha?”  Then he dared to take it a step further.  “Didn’t help our tie-breaker, did it?”

He grabbed Castiel’s forearm and the back of his neck and hauled their bodies together, keeping him just out of reach, yet just close enough to scent him.  Dean could feel the shiver that ran through the alpha as he smelled the desire coming from the omega.  Cas drew in a heavy breath, daring to dip in just a bit further and brush his nose against Dean’s throat.

“You know you drive me insane, don’t you?”  His voice was more controlled than Dean would have guessed, even though it was deep and throaty.

It was Dean’s turn to feel weak in the knees as he answered back, “And when exactly are you planning on doing something about it?”

Boldly, Cas leaned in even closer, tongue darting out to lick the sweat from the omega’s neck, then drew away and suggested, “Let’s close our tab.”

And that…was fine and friggin’ dandy with Dean.

When they managed to pull themselves away from each other and make their way back to the bar, Jo was watching them with a knowing smile and her hand already extended.  Dean pulled out his card before Cas could even make a move to, because it wasn’t like cashing out for the both of them would make any difference to him after tonight.  Why let the alpha pay for it and be stuck with the debt?  Dean had the money to burn at this point and he knew it would be a hefty bar tab.  And like they always say - you can’t take it with you.

Jo took the card and skipped off, and the entire time the omega could feel hungry eyes on him.  Dean refused to meet his gaze.  He refused to fuel that fire because as things stood right now?  If he did look into those hot blue eyes, Dean was pretty damn concerned he’d be bending over the goddamn bar, begging for Cas in no time.

When the blonde returned for the signature, she commented lightly, “You know, you never asked me.”

After a moment, Dean’s eyes flickered up to her waiting face.  “Oh yeah?  Guess we didn’t.”

“Did you not want to, or something?”  She leaned on her elbow and then cast a glance toward Castiel.  “Or did you already guess what my answer would be?”

“You’re not the kind of girl who would.”  The alpha stated, plain and simple.  “You’re a fighter.  You don’t want to be working here.  You don’t want to have to wear all that makeup, wear those clothes.  You’re just doing what you have to do in order to survive and make a living in the so-called ‘City of Angels.'”

“Huh.”  Jo put her hands on her hips with a grin tugging her lips.  “Usually _I’m_ the one who can read people.  But you hit the nail on the head.”

“Cop, remember?”  Dean turned just in time to see Cas wink at her while he slid the receipt back, after leaving an _obscene_ tip.

It was only then that she looked down at the receipt and paled visibly after seeing the scribbled sum, but Dean had the alpha’s hand in his and was already yanking him towards the exit.  He hoped Castiel didn’t hear the panicked, “Dean!   _Wait_!” coming from the blonde behind them, because they were moving _fast_ , and he had a feeling that Jo now knew he had been serious all along.

But he’d put enough space in between them.  He _had_ to.

Suddenly, they were out on the street, and the alpha was on him like a shot, his voice deep and heady as he blurted out, “There’s a hotel two blocks down-”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

\---------------

At the front desk, neither man even blinked when Dean went ahead and booked the honeymoon suite.  He was spending money left and right tonight, and there was no hesitation when he threw down his card for a second time.  The words, “One night,” easily spilled from his lips.  

But Castiel wasn’t focused on the words, he was focused on the omega - specifically his amazing scent and how damned quickly the concierge could manage to give them the damn key so they could haul ass to the room.  He was burning and hungry, and he assumed the employee had figured it out when she finally picked up the pace and all but threw the key card in their direction. From the blush on her cheeks, she must have been new.

If this were any other night, Dean would have taken the time to look around and admire the surroundings, because he was used to shitty motel accommodations and this was _anything_ but.

This, right here, was a classy joint.  Normally, he would have taken in the sight of the skyline afforded as the glass-walled elevator rose to their floor.  Instead, his fingers were tangled in Castiel’s hair as their lips finally collided and the city got a full view of _them_ making out in a moment of untamed passion.

“Hey, hey,” Dean pulled away, already breathless, as the elevator doors slid open.  Since Castiel obviously hadn’t noticed, he gestured toward the hallway with his thumb.  “Let’s go find our room, hotshot.”

The alpha made some kind of grunt - half acknowledgement/half annoyance at being interrupted, but followed right on the omega’s heels.

They both tripped over their own feet as they crowded the door, eager to get inside while Dean’s clumsy, uncoordinated attempts at getting the card into the slot failed utterly.  Castiel didn’t bother with ceremony and manhandled the key from the omega’s grasp, earning him a drunken, “Hey!  I almost had it!” as the alpha got the green light on his first try.

He raised an unconvinced eyebrow and drawled, “You were saying?”

“Are you _sassing_ me?”  Dean threw open the door and shoved the alpha inside, slamming it behind them.

“That depends…” Castiel liked where this was going.  “What’s your definition of ‘sassing?’”

“Being an annoying jackass,” the omega said, tearing off the alpha’s coat while he kicked off his own boots, “who was makin’ eyes at me all night,” Dean proceeded to the suit jacket, which was another annoying layer, “then decides to talk when it’s time to deliver.”

“Oh, I’ll _deliver_ ,” Cas grumbled.

He abruptly grabbed Dean’s arm - stopping his attempt to pull off any more clothes, and instead sidestepped him so he could haul the omega off the ground and physically carry him the (obnoxiously) long distance between the door and the bed.  Dean yipped and had no other choice but to wrap his legs around the alpha’s waist.  Soon enough, Cas’ hurried pace brought them to the bed, where Dean was tossed down on his back and found himself staring up into a smoldering, hot gaze.

The curtains were wide open and the suite was cast in the still-prominent glow of the city’s nightlife, but that didn’t bother either man whatsoever.  Thirsty for what lay under Dean’s flannel, Castiel unbuttoned it with skilled fingers and peeled it open.  There was nothing but skin underneath it, as the omega hadn’t bothered with an undershirt, and the alpha instantly descended on him with his mouth watering.

He tasted the sweat from the heat of the bar on Dean’s chest as he teased his nipples, his hands spanning open to feel the toned muscle along his sides.  The moment he set his teeth and tongue to work on the omega’s neck…Dean moaned unabashedly and bucked up in hopes of creating some friction.

Cursing inwardly that he hadn’t managed to at _least_ get the damned _jacket_ off of Cas, Dean was made glaringly aware of two facts in the moment when he arched back against the bed.

One: his underwear were clinging to his ass like he’d gone fucking swimming, drenched from slick and want of this alpha and… two?

His gun -  a cold, steel reminder - was _still_ tucked behind his back.

Fuck.

Well hell.  Dean realized this was the moment of truth.  Time to see if Castiel was taking him seriously the entire night or if he really thought the whole thing was a big fucking joke.

No matter how strong the alpha was - or any alpha for that matter - Dean was a goddamn hit man.  He knew how to disarm someone.  He knew how to move to get out from under someone.  He knew how to break free from a hold.

And that’s exactly what he did, knocking Castiel from off the top of him and spinning until the alpha was pinned beneath him with a look of surprise, paired with unbridled arousal, on his face.

Dean made a show of shrugging the flannel off completely and admitted aloud, “I’m not going to allow any accidents to come between me and that knot of yours, alpha.” He pulled the gun out from where it was fastened at the small of his back, then slowly and deliberately, placed it on the bedside table, hoping Cas wouldn’t freak out at the sight.

To his credit, Cas didn’t even flinch, he simply huffed out a breath and asked, “Does this mean we’re playing rough?” choosing to address Dean’s show of strength instead.

“How do you wanna play?” Dean asked with a wide grin, because he had honestly thought there was a fifty-fifty chance of everything grinding to a(n unsexy) halt right then and there.

The air was knocked from his lungs when Castiel tackled him again and ripped open the button of Dean’s jeans, shoving both those and his boxers, down to his knees.  

With barely enough oxygen left to say anything, Dean forced himself to quip, “Guess that answers _that_ question-”

“You’re the one who talks too much.”  With an almost feral snarl, Castiel flipped him over and hauled his ass up, spreading his cheeks open wide.  “ _God_ , you smell delicious.  It’s addicting-”

That was the only warning the omega got before the alpha descended upon him and completely rendered him a useless, writhing animal with his tongue.

He didn’t hesitate to lap right at the source, flattening his tongue and dragging it across Dean’s leaking hole.  But after the initial assault, Castiel moaned, a rumble deep in his chest, as he lapped the slick still clinging to Dean’s thighs and ass cheeks, fiercely determined to lick up all he could get.

It was pointless and just Dean wished he’d get on with it, because each ministration made him gush even more slick and they were getting fucking nowhere.  When all Dean wanted to get down to the _actual_ fucking.

Yet, Cas moved as though he was starved, a pure animal: like the lycanthropes they were said to have descended from.  And he wasn’t only using his tongue.  He was raking his teeth along the sensitive flesh of Dean’s inner thighs, making him whimper and keen.  Cas was sucking bruises into the omega’s flesh and the scents in the air were skyrocketing with lust and desire, pulsing from their bodies in an intoxicating veil.

Dean wanted to snap at him.  He wanted to push Cas over the edge and toward the main event, but…he didn’t know _how_ he would respond.  Would he finally give him what he wanted?  Would he choose to draw out the teasing even longer just for the hell of it?

The alpha was still fully clothed, for fuck’s sake!

That, right there, was the incentive Dean was looking for.

And no matter how Cas had him wrapped around his little finger right now?  Certain things took precedence.

The omega let out a growl of his own and tore out of Castiel’s grip, no matter how his greedy body immediately mourned the lack of touch.  Because he knew they could do _better_.  That they _would_ do better.  Dean skidded around until they were face to face, both using the mattress to support their upper bodies and he leveled the alpha with a fierce glare.

“We’re getting naked.  Right the fuck now.”  Although there was defiance in Cas’ eyes, the second Dean tacked on, “Or else I’m pressin’ pause, buddy,” he’d never seen another person move faster in his life.

In fact, it was the _omega_ who had to catch up in the end, having barely finished kicking off his socks before Castiel pounced on top of him.

Then they were right back to those hot, open-mouthed, desperate kisses that Dean was so damn ravenous for.  He could faintly taste his own slick as their tongues brushed and Cas’ hands tangled in his hair, jerking his head to the side, fingers ghosting along his neck.  The change-up from brazen and bold, to soft and heated caught the omega off guard, but it didn’t bother him.

Mostly, because they were finally, fucking _finally_ , skin to skin.

Castiel had draped himself over the man so there wasn’t an inch of their bodies that weren’t touching.  The heat of his body felt amazing.

The other thing that felt amazing?  Finally being able to feel the unobstructed, amazing grind of Cas’ cock rutting against his hip, precum already easing its obscene slide where it was trapped between them.  Dean arched against it, this time ripping a moan from the alpha as he sucked Cas’ lip into his mouth and nipped it.

He spread his legs, Castiel’s lounging weight just dropping between them to the bed, and Dean lifted his hips off it, easily grinding his ass against the alpha’s thigh.

“Feel how slick I am for you, Cas?”  He drawled out, “Are you gonna do something about it?”

When the alpha pulled away to look at Dean, there was barely any blue left in his eyes, his pupils were blown wide open with lust.  But then he paused for a second, just considering him, before asking in that sexy voice, “How do _you_ want it?  I want it to be good for you.”

It took Dean a second to realize he was being serious.  That this wasn’t dirty talk, or something similar.  After all, Cas _knew_.  He’d…known all along.  

And he wanted Dean’s last time to be whatever the omega wanted it to be.  

Instead of shying away from the intensity of his gaze, Dean huffed and reached out to grab the alpha’s face with his hands, getting his complete attention.

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’ll break.  I wanna feel _every_ second of it.  I want you to knot me and fill me up.  And I don’t want you to stop until you can’t see straight,” he flicked his tongue across Castiel’s kiss-swollen lips.  “The details are up to you.”

Cas seemed to appraise him, thinking over the words as he nodded his confirmation and shifted ever-so-slightly.

“I want to fuck you like this, then.”  He reached down and grazed two fingers over Dean’s hole, spreading his legs further apart.

But Dean’s hand shot out with lightning-fast speed and brushed off the attempt at foreplay, “Told you.  Wanna feel _everything_.  Give me your cock,” and pushed Cas’ hand away with force and narrowed eyes.

Castiel looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he shook his head and swallowed the words.  Instead, he guided his dick through the mess of slick between Dean’s legs, coating himself with the wetness and mused, “You’re going to be feeling _quite_ a lot.”

“I know,” the omega drew out with a devilish grin.  “C’mon.  Thought you wanted to fuck me-”

Before the last word was out of his mouth, the blunt and thick head of Cas’ cock was pushing past his tight rim and turned the phrase into a string of curses.  Then, as the alpha slid further inside, it transformed into a series of groans and noises.  By the time, their bodies slammed together, Dean was reaching out and clutching desperately at Cas’ back for stability.

Sure, he had the blankets, the pillows he could grab purchase on, but tonight he had a hot body there for a reason.  One he intended to take full advantage of.  And Cas didn’t shy away from the omega’s nails digging into his back.  He was too busy sucking at Dean’s neck and whispering praises to notice the crescent bites into his flesh.  Castiel held him tight as he laid the omega back down to the bed where Dean had arched up from, and pressed both his shoulders down into the mattress.

He couldn’t help the sharp gasp drawn in through his teeth as his eyes lingered on the flushed, beautiful omega and glanced down to where their bodies were joined.  Castiel couldn’t get enough.  The sight before him was almost too much, it was breathtaking, and Dean was gasping, practically choking on air as he was restrained.

Before he could taunt Cas, before he could say anything at all, the alpha slowly pulled out just enough to illicit another downright filthy sound as Dean threw his head back.

Dean’s body was hypersensitive ever since the first brush of Castiel’s cock inside him.  Sure, he was wet.  Hell, he was slick enough to leave a goddamn puddle on the sheets that growing by the second, but the girth and length of Cas’ cock was splitting him open and he felt every second as it stretched him wide.  Just like he'd asked for.

It was everything he needed and more.

These were the things that _truly_ made him feel alive, the things that he needed to remind himself that he had _lived_.

The pleasure wrapped up and intertwined with the pain. The searing burn that was slowly receding with every shallow rock of Castiel’s hips…he savored every motion, every roll of their bodies together.

Every word died on Dean’s tongue, because there was nothing more that he wanted.

He had it.  Right here.

And as Cas fucked into his body, languid and tentative at first, their lips crashed back together and the electricity had the hair on Dean’s arms standing on end.  He kissed the alpha like he meant it, because he did.  He meant so many things, as he tangled his fingers in the short hairs at the base of Cas’ skull and raised his pelvis to meet the alpha’s as the pace increased.

In another impressive show of strength, as Castiel plunged deep inside Dean’s hot, tight hole, he hiked both the omega’s legs over his shoulders to heighten the intensity.  Just like that, Dean hooked his ankles behind Cas’ head and used the new, even friggin better, angle to pull him in, to urge him forward and their bodies moved like a well-oiled machine.

They didn’t have to speak.  They were so in-tune; they could read each other so easily.

But that didn’t keep Dean silent for long.

“Jesus, you feel amazing,” he praised and gasped when a sharp thrust fell flawlessly in line with his prostate.  “ _Cas_ \- right there, that’s it.”

With a sharp nip to his neck, Castiel deliberately changed the angle but kicked up the speed, purring, “You don’t want this to be over before we’ve even begun, do you?”

Dean responded with a whine, baring his neck in submission because the things Cas was doing to him?  They made him shudder and his cock ooze precum.  He could feel his stomach wet from the crunched position, his erection throbbed from neglect, and his hole still gushing slick, still needing more and more of the alpha.

“N-no, but I need it.  Need _you_ ,” he blurted out and head butted Cas to look him in the eyes.  “You’re too damn perfect, you know that?”

“Heh.”  He shook his head, tearing his eyes away and sucking down on Dean’s pulse point, drawing out a moan from deep inside his chest.  “Don’t say such things,” and began fucking into him faster, and harder now.

Dean almost regretted saying it.  Because maybe… _maybe_ it was a low blow.  Because after tonight, Castiel would never have a chance to have him again.  The omega would have reconsidered and decided that, yeah, he _was_ a jerk to say that - if his world wasn’t currently being rocked by the hottest, sex-god Dean had ever known.

He reeled as Castiel switched the angle again, back to where he knew Dean’s sweet spot was, and the omega could already feel the tug of the alpha’s knot catching at his rim.  The pull and drag sent a thrill through his body, because Castiel didn’t hesitate to roll his hips to show he was proudly going to knot him.

Taking it a step further, Cas whispered, face drug down closer by Dean’s locked ankles, “You feel that?  What you do to me?  I’m already inside you, Dean, ready to fill you, claim you as mine tonight.”  He rolled his hips in a figure eight and groaned unabashedly, “Are you ready for my knot?”

The air was punched from his lungs as Castiel began snapping his hips forward, watching him closely for an answer.  Watching to see what Dean was going to do.

But…all he was capable of was just trying to keep up, trying to breathe, and wishing he could steal a glance at where Castiel’s cock was buried so deep inside him.

Every plunge forward was calculated and finally Dean couldn’t hold back, filling the room with shouts as his orgasm didn’t just wash through his body, but pulled him under like a tidal wave of pleasure.  He reached out blindly - for what, he didn’t know - but Castiel filled in the gaps and placed himself in the omega’s arms as his knot swelled and cum burst into Dean’s body.

Yet Cas remembered, very vividly, the request Dean had made.  

Still holding the omega tightly, he adjusted their position, dropping Dean‘s legs back down to the mattress.  The alpha cradled Dean with a kind of sweetness as they both rode out the aftershocks, but pulled his body back against him.  Even though they were tied, he continued to rock, continued the sharp movements, but this time at an upward angle where Dean had wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck and was now practically sitting in his lap.

He held Dean, who was nearly boneless, and clamped his mouth down on the meat of his shoulder as he blew another load into his tight ass.

That made the omega come alive and gasp, gripping handfuls of Cas’ hair and pressing their foreheads together with a wicked smirk on his face.  “ _Fuck yeah_ , Cas,” he nodded his encouragement, “just like that…want you to fill me so full, ‘til I can’t move-”

Sweat-covered and shaking, Castiel nodded and smirked, “Want to milk me dry, Dean?” as he tried to gather himself and poorly attempted to continue the pace with the revived man in his lap.  “That’s dangerous.  You’re so tight, as it is.”

“I like danger,” he stole a rough kiss and began to grind down on Cas’ huge, thick knot, “kinda like you.”

The alpha whimpered and his hands flew out to grab low on Dean’s back, since he knew he didn’t have to support his weight alone anymore, and stole a kiss, taunting, “How does it feel?”

“So good…” he drew the word out and clenched his ass muscles down around Cas’ cock, forcing a shout as Dean began riding him, “you’re gonna split me in half, and it’s all I want-”

Castiel’s eyes were heavy with both exhaustion and lust, and it took no effort at all for Dean to shove the teetering alpha onto his back and take over the hard work from there.  The alpha was completely enraptured by the sight, no matter how spent he was.  The image of the omega grinding and rolling and whimpering out while he rode his knot - it was _too much_ to handle.

“Dean!”  He cried out, half in euphoria and half as a warning because he wasn’t sure how much the other man’s body could take.  “Oh God, _fuck-_ ”  This time, it was Castiel writhing and thrashing in the sheets.

A garbled version of Castiel’s name left Dean’s lips like a prayer as he felt the stretch - really, _really_ felt it - and doubled down on top of the alpha.  His heart was pounding out of his chest, he could feel their heartbeats syncing up and Cas’ arms were quaking when they reached out to hold him again.

Dean hadn’t been joking when he said they’d fuck until Cas couldn’t see straight.  After three orgasms, the edge of the alpha’s vision was going fuzzy but he knew (basically his instincts knew and took over) that he needed to care for his omega.  He was sluggish as he moved, but eventually managed to scoop Dean up and get them both back onto the bed (the correct way) until their heads were resting against the pillows and they were tucked under the sheets.

He took in Dean’s scent like it was his very own last breath on Earth: it was sated, slightly desperate and…thankful?  Which Castiel found somewhat ridiculous at this point, but Dean was clinging to him, holding on so tightly that he couldn’t do anything but return the embrace.

Cas nestled against the top of the omega’s head, brushing the sweat-matted hair off his forehead and kissing him lightly before he inquired, “How are you feeling?” once the rush died down.

“Mm, drunk.  On everything.  But mostly…you.”  It was an oddly happy admission and he could feel Dean’s smile against his chest.

“You’re…all right, though?”  Castiel felt odd asking it, but when the omega didn’t respond right away, he lowered his hand to cup the slight swell of Dean’s abdomen, as he realized he’d pushed him to the limit.

With a chuckle and a nod, Dean confirmed, “Yeah, yeah.  Told you, I wanted to feel.  And you made me…feel things again.”

It was a strange yet sensible answer, and this time it was the alpha that clung to the omega.

He didn’t know what made him say it, but he asked hesitantly, “Will you wake me before you…leave?”

How else was Castiel supposed to phrase it?

Dean slowly looked up at him through long lashes and a decent span of time passed before he chewed his lip and said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”  It was instant.  “I’d like to…say goodbye.”

The smile the alpha wore was sad, but he really did want the chance.  The night they had - this last hurrah - was one for the memory books.  But that’s just what it would be.  A memory.

“Kay.”  Dean’s voice was sleep-addled as he shifted around just a bit to kiss Castiel’s lips and then closed his eyes to drowse against his chest.

It was only the alcohol coursing through his system (the little bit he hadn’t managed to sweat out) that enabled the alpha to sleep.  He never would have been able to, otherwise.

But Dean, on the other hand, stayed awake much longer.  Until their sweat dried.  Until he heard Cas’ breathing slow to a lethargic in and out that confirmed he was out like a light.  In those moments, Dean realized he was happy he hadn’t had to spend his last night alone.  That they’d somehow wound up together, with no secrets between the two of them.

Although, now he had questions.  Now things weren’t quite as cut and dry as he had originally believed.  But…for a second he could pretend.  He could lay here, close his eyes, and - after a while - even fall asleep with the alpha who had given him the best evening he could have ever asked for.

\-------------------

“Hey…Cas?”

The man didn’t slowly stir awake, it was more of a jolt into consciousness when he heard Dean’s voice and only then realized that the beginnings of dawn were peeking through the windows.  Which he found…odd.  After all, wouldn’t a man bent on suicide do it while drunk during the night while people were asleep, rather than the day where there would be witnesses or people to talk him down?  God, Cas hoped he didn’t plan to do it in the hotel room-

“Hey,” Dean grabbed his attention again, and it was only then he realized that the man was fully dressed and the gun was gone from the nightstand.  “I…I’ve got one more favor to ask you.”

The hangover, the straight-up drum-beating of a headache suddenly meant nothing because…Dean wanted a favor?

Instantly, the alpha recoiled with a frown and stated, “Don’t ask me to do it.”

“No, _oh God_ , no!”  Dean balked and looked offended, “Hell no, _dude_.  I…just need you to drive me somewhere.”

Slower, this time, Castiel thought about the request and determined that he wasn’t the kind of man that could deny a dying person their last wish.

“All right.  Just…allow me to get washed up a bit and we’ll go.”

He could feel the remnants of last night clinging to his skin and even though Dean frowned at the idea, Castiel knew he could take a quick shower and said as much.

“I just need to rinse off.  It won’t take long.”

Then on impulse alone, he cupped the omega’s cheek and kissed him softly.

That was when Dean grumbled, “Yeah, okay.  Go for it,” and pulled away from the bed.

Castiel stood up and without a thought to his nudity, made a beeline for the shower because wherever Dean wanted to go was obviously important.  And he needed to get there fast.  But, as Castiel stood under the spray, his curiosity got the better of him and his mind wouldn’t stop running over the possibilities.

Was he taking the omega to his final resting place?  Was there some unfinished business he had left that he planned to take care of?  He hoped it was the latter.  Because the alpha was loathe to be the one with the responsibility to stop him, but he respected his wishes.  It wasn’t his place.  He didn’t get to choose what Dean decided to do in the end.  Everything that happened the previous night was something Castiel had just been allowed to be _included_ in.

When something this huge happened in a person’s life, there was a reason and you were merely a spectator.  At least, that’s what Castiel felt like in this situation.  Well, to be honest, he felt helpless to stop it.  Because of _who_ Dean _was_.  There just…was no stopping him, so he’d try his best to help him with whatever he needed until then.

He needed to remain an _asset_ in this situation, because if he could help out and therefore get to stay with the omega just a little while longer…he’d take it.

Internally scoffing at the direction of his own thoughts, he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself quickly and walking back into the main room of the honeymoon suite to locate his scattered clothes.  But it looked as though Dean truly was on a mission.  The omega perked up at his entrance and gestured to the bed to show he’d collected all of the alpha’s clothing and laid them out for him.

Dean whistled in a catcall in his direction and clucked his tongue, admitting, “Gotta say, I love that view.”

“Do you, now?”  Castiel raised a haughty eyebrow.  “You know, check out isn’t for another couple hours, if you-”

“No.”  It was final.  “I need to talk to someone.”

Cas was pulling on the old band tee when Dean’s words registered.  So he wasn’t going to his…final destination.  He was going to visit with someone?  Now, the mystery intensified and when the alpha’s head emerged through the neck of the shirt, he looked on in confusion.

“Who are you-”

“Cas,” Dean huffed and looked put out.  “It’s better if you don’t know.  Like, trust me on this.”

Warily, he nodded and continued to get dressed, announcing, “I parked at the structure near the bar.  Thankfully, it’s close.”  Then, once he pulled on his suit jacket that smelled like liquor and cigarettes (completing the ensemble for the ultimate walk of shame) he had to ask, “How did you know I didn’t take a cab?”

The omega shrugged and with a half-smile admitted, “Just figured.”

Playing along with his game, Castiel asked, “Are you implying I was out to get laid last night?” and rounded on the man still seated on the bed, cupping his cheeks with his hands.

Dean grinned up at him and cheekily drew out the word, “Nah.  Just a coincidence, right?”

“I thought you were in a hurry,” Cas teased while he brushed their noses together softly, flicking his tongue across the omega’s upper lip.

It had Dean drawing in a sharp breath and surging to his feet, spitting out, “You’re right.  I am.”  But not before grabbing a fistful of the bar-scented jacket and kissing him hard.  “Let’s get a move on.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head fondly as he watched the omega walk with a slight limp towards the door, but his heart ached as he caught the outline of the gun - just briefly - underneath the leather jacket.  It was a bitter reminder, even if they could play pretend for a moment, one that he hated.

But now, he had to help Dean the only way he could.  And, apparently, that was by playing chauffeur.

\-------------------------

It was something that had been itching under the surface of Dean’s thoughts in the early hours of the morning.  He hadn’t truly meant to fall asleep on top of Cas, and, to be totally honest, he lied when he had told him he was going to wake him to say goodbye.  But he was lulled to sleep by the comforting presence of the alpha and by the time he woke up, there were other things haunting his mind.

Questions.

Things that he needed answered before he finished the job.

He understood Castiel’s confused expression when they pulled up in front of a house at the asscrack of dawn.  Dean suddenly realized what he had done.  As well as the heavy ramifications of his actions.  

And he slowly looked over his shoulder from the passenger’s seat and said, “You’re still off duty, right?”

He was met with furrowed eyebrows and a slow nod.  Then, an even more hesitant, “Of course.  Do you…want me to wait here?”

That, right there, was the real questions.  Did Dean want him to sit here and chill while he stormed the place?  A place he _couldn’t believe_ he’d just led a fuckin’ _cop_ to?  A cop who could possibly radio in his friends if he knew what kind of place _here_ was?  Nah, he trusted Cas more than that.  But maybe…just maybe he wanted him here, when he came out on the other side.  Maybe…he _owed_ him that goodbye.

Which was why he ended up deciding, “Yeah.  I mean, if you want to,” with the most casual shrug he could muster.

“I’ll wait here then.”

It was ridiculous and warmed Dean’s blackened heart that Castiel was so eager, so happy to just stay here.  When Dean…wasn’t even sure what _was_ going to come out on the other side of this.

He tried to smile as he opened the car door and trudged to the front of the house.  Dean entered a code into the keypad which pulled up a screen and fingerprint reader.  This was just the first rung of security to get in.  But he went through the familiar motions, and soon he was in the “lobby” of the house that served as a front for his job.

After a brief look of confusion from the woman at the front desk, he never knew her name, she stood up to greet him saying, “Dean.  You don’t have an appointment.”

“Well, I’m makin’ one.  I need to see him.”  He knew his scent said it all, and it knocked the woman back on her ass as she moved to the phone.  She lifted the receiver, dialed another code and then stated as evenly as she could, “Sir, Dean Winchester to see you.  He’s…”

The omega snatched up the phone from her hand and ordered, “We need to talk.  Now,” and tossed it back to the woman.

She narrowed a glare and put the phone to ear, hearing a response all the while Dean stared her down and she finished with, “Yes.  All right, sir.  I apologize.  Okay.”

Dean obnoxiously drummed his fingers along the edge of the table and raised an eyebrow in anticipation, “Is that a yes or a yes?”

“He will see you.”  Then she emphasized, “In his office.”

That took the omega aback.  “Office?  Where is-?”

“It’s downstairs in the basement.  Follow the stairwell and turn left once you get to the bottom.  The guards will show you where to go.”  She spoke in a clipped voice that promised nothing good for Dean, but he didn’t care.

Suicide, homicide, it didn’t matter.  What mattered was that the job got done in the end.  It looked like he might go out a different way than he had expected, but if it was his boss that did the deed?  He could make peace with that.  Dean knew he was pushing the boundaries because dead men walking have nothing left to fear, but this was a whole new level of idiocy, even for him.

He followed her direction through the house until he was near the area he recognized as being by the stairwell and winked at one of the guards he actually knew by name.  “So Benny…I’m headed to some kinda secret office then?”

“What did you get yourself into this time, Dean?”  Benny wore a crooked grin and shook his head.  “Right this way,” he opened the door and jerked his thumb towards the dimly lit gloom beyond.

“Thanks,” Dean acknowledged with a small salute and there he was, at the top of a flight of stairs, headed down.

But from where he stood it seemed…empty?  The lack of anyone about was alarming.  It looked like a house under construction in the middle of a renovation and had the omega wondering if he was headed into a straightforward trap.  But his suspicions proved unfounded when he heard a voice boom across the basement and saw the glow of an open door leading deeper underground.

“Dean, through here.  I believe you wished to speak with me?”

The omega marched forward, his intent and urgency propelling him on with every footfall.  He never once so much as blinked as he entered the office space and the alpha closed the door behind the two of them.  He fell heavily into the chair set up across from the desk and couldn’t help the way his eyes danced around the office.

“So.  This is where the magic happens,” Dean mumbled gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.  “So I’ve got a couple of questions that you’ve got the answers to, Cain.”

“Like what you’re doing up, barging into headquarters without a summons this early in the morning?”  Cain took a seat behind his desk, raising an eyebrow and fixing him with unimpressed stare.  “I didn’t pick you for an early riser, Winchester.  What’s more, I didn’t think you’d allow someone else to accompany you here and potentially blow our cover.  What’s so important that it couldn’t be done via phone call?”

Dean knew he was playing a dangerous game, especially when it came to this man.  His boss.  The very alpha who decided who got capped.  The very man they called the Father of Murder, because he was the head of the entire ring of assassins.  All of the mercenaries they sent out answered to Cain.  Dean realized he was playing with fire by confronting him this way.  But his gut had ordered him here and to be honest, he had nothing left to fucking lose.  
  
He remembered when he first met the man.  It had been, God, _years_ ago now.  While he wasn’t fresh out of the service, he was freshly haunted by the memories.  It was a strange thing when he got back onto US soil.  For a while, just being home and seeing familiar faces allowed the omega to live in this ignorance-is-bliss kind of bubble.  
  
It kept the monsters away, but as time wore on...the night terrors began to creep in.  
  
PTSD, whatever you call it, Dean refused to label it.  He numbed himself, as he had overseas, and handled it his own way.  That was how he met Cain.  
  
One random night, the omega had headed out to the nearest bar to drink his weight in liquor.  Alone.  Even though he'd arrived solo, he needed to be surrounded with people so he didn’t feel quite as pathetic and lonely as he was.  That evening, unlike other ones, all the stools at the bar were filled and he found himself isolated to a high-top table (which ended up looking all kinds of pitiful and defeated the purpose) but little did he know he wouldn’t be alone for long.  
  
When Cain appeared, it was with a poised confidence, one that Dean recognized very well, and his request of, “May I sit here?” was nearly followed by a staccato “Yes, _sir_.”  
  
Dean had quickly covered up his almost-misstep with a cough and a nod, and when the alpha sat down...he was just that.  
  
All alpha.  He was confidence, charisma, uniquely handsome with this additional _something-intriguing_ that demanded Dean’s attention.  Well, besides the fact that he’d just helped himself to Dean's table when there were plenty of other empty booths around the area.  But his clear, blue eyes were laser-focused on the omega.  Who was wearing _alpha_ scents, so Dean knew damn well he wasn’t there to pick him up.  
  
And there was the odd fact Cain didn’t have a drink in his hand.  
  
Things got ten times stranger when he smiled and said, “Dean Winchester.  My name is Cain, and I’ve heard stories about you from your platoon leader.”  
  
That sent a jolt of alarm down the omega’s spine, because he didn’t know what to think.  Was he in trouble?  Did _something_ follow him back?  Were they _investigating-_?  
  
“Dean,” the man’s voice was soothing as he explained, “I’m here with a job offer.  One that may interest you and you’re exceptionally qualified for.  You have a very special skill set that I search for in employees, but first and foremost, I need discretion.  May I continue and trust you’ll be prudent?”  
  
To be honest, Dean was curious by nature, it was the thing that had gotten him here in the first place, and the handful of whiskey shots had done nothing to lessen his intrigue.  The more Dean had studied the man, the more he trusted his genuine and up-front manner of doing things.  Cain had no ulterior motives, he was offering a job, nothing more.  
  
Of-fucking-course, Dean had been eager to occupy his time.  He had been _thrilled_ to fill his schedule with things that distanced him from the nightmares.  At the time, he’d been so caught up in a distraction, he didn’t know that this distraction would be the very thing that did him in.  
  
They’d left the bar, they’d gone on a walk.  Dean was so desensitized to killing that he didn’t even flinch when the man spoke of what the job entailed.  Hell, he was looking at the dollar signs.  Not only that...Dean hated it, but he’d fallen so far that maybe ( _just maybe)_  he felt so worthless and broken at this bone-deep level, that maybe killing _was_ the only thing he was good at.  
  
Maybe he needed to continue to prove he had a place in the world.  
  
It was sick, but Cain used _all_ the right words, played on his fears, lifted him up and coaxed him into signing on the dotted line.    
  
Not right away, though.    
  
It was something Dean needed to sit with for a while.  But after a few weeks?   _Maybe_ Cain’s calming, logical offer clicked.  
  
Everything was downhill from there.  
  
And here they sat, face to face, at Dean’s rock bottom.

“I needed to see it for myself.  Needed to see your face when I asked you.”  The omega kicked his legs out and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.  “Did any - _any_ \- of those poor bastards I killed, did any single one of ‘em deserve it?  Or was it _all_ for the money?  Were they just sold off to the highest bidder?  Because of a vendetta?  Because of petty rivalries?  Tell me I did one, _single good thing_ while I was here working for you.”

Cain’s mouth opened ever so slightly as he examined the omega and tilted his head, noting, “You’re distressed.  Dean?  What’s gotten into you?”  There was genuine concern lacing his tone, and it bothered the omega because this was his _boss_.  His boss who never showed an ounce of emotion and right now it was laid bare for him to see without any attempt at concealment.

“Just answer the damn question,” Dean snarled through gritted teeth, before his fucking voice cracked on the, “please,” and he hated himself for it.

The alpha’s expression morphed into one of disbelief.  He pulled his wheeled chair from behind the desk and close to the omega when he asked, “You _never_ thought to look into the names?  You never wished to _see_ any sort of background information about the people you were...dealing with?”

“Why the hell would I do that?  You don’t make it personal.  You _never_ make it personal,” the omega rattled it off like a mantra.

“I forget,” Cain paused and momentarily mused, “That’s what the _military_ did to you.  They shaped you into a different creature.  Your enemies _needed_ to remain faceless in your line of service.  They needed to be _less_ than human.”  Running a hand through his shaggy hair, Cain asked with an exasperated sigh, “You really have _no idea_ what we do here, do you?”

That was the first thing that caused the omega to pause for a moment in uncertainty.  “What does that mean?”

“Of course, we’re mercenaries.  Of course, we’re killers.  And we make a healthy profit in our business.  But we don’t get our contracts through third parties.   _We_ are the ones who _make_ the connections, _we are_ the third parties,” he explained in that calm, cool voice - which was something that encompassed the man’s demeanor in a nutshell.  “And we are the ones who ask if people _seek justice_.”

“I don’t get it.”  Dean’s confusion was growing by the second.  “We ask if people seek justice?  What kind of question is that?”

“Who do the police have their eye on, Dean?  The FBI’s Most Wanted List?  A Top Ten?  What kind of cases actually make it onto the news?  Who is America _actually_ looking out for?” Cain challenged, his voice growing in intensity.  “What about the beta who’s number one hundred and thirty-seven on that wanted list?  The one who murdered the love of someone’s life, but is _still_ at large?   _No one_ is hunting for that monster.  The police are concentrated on who’s _in the media_ and under scrutiny and under fire based on a  _Tumblr post._  We are the third party who reaches out to _those_ loved ones left behind: the forgotten, the neglected, the would-be cold cases.  And we offer them _our_ services.  For a price.”

Dean took a minute to process that information and blinked heavily.  “Wait.  So every name I was given, every kill I made…is someone the _cops_ couldn’t catch?”

“Mm,” Cain hummed in confirmation.  “Someone they _assumed_ hopped the border or is no longer important _enough_ to put manpower into finding.  We offer justice in the literal sense.  A eye for an eye.  Although, I only offer our services to those victims I believe deserve such an extreme form of retribution...and are willing and able to pay the price.  We are, after all, a business.”  With a hearty laugh, although one that was a bit on the twisted side, Cain admitted, “There is no end to the list of criminals that need removing from this earth and _very few_ people left behind will mourn any of them.  Those we hunt?  Are those who are already assumed lost, yet this way the _victims_ get their own closure.”

“Wow.”  Dean’s brain felt like it was about to short-circuit.  It was frazzled and going a mile a minute.  Those… _weren’t_ innocents?  The people on his lists - the ones Dean believed he had murdered in cold blood - the ones he thought were blameless in this whole endeavor?  They were the exact _opposite_.

It wasn’t like a weight had been lifted, it was more like a rush of clarity: a crispness that snapped his vision clear and adjusted the lenses on his view of the world around him.  His mind was alive with the ramifications of…the nature of the deaths surrounding him.  He would never go so far as to call himself a vigilante, but this was leagues - _worlds_ \- better than what he’d believed he was involved in.  Holy fuck.  This was-

“Dean?”  Cain’s voice was tentative as he called out to him, “You truly didn’t know?  You didn’t understand that that’s how our operation worked?”

“N-no.  I didn’t.”  He wiped a hand down his face and his body began to shake.  He didn’t know whether he was on the verge of uncontrollable laughter or hysterical sobbing, but _something_ was about to give, _something_ was about to break as he trembled-

But before that could happen, he staggered to his feet and proclaimed, “I-I _can’t_ do this anymore.  I’m…I’m done.”

“All right.”  The alpha approached him as if he were a trapped, wounded animal.  “That’s fine, Dean.  I’ll wire you your final paycheck today.”  Cain followed him as he stood up but grabbed Dean’s shoulder before he could leave and yanked him around to gain his attention.  “Are you okay?  Answer me.  That‘s your final order, as my employee.”

“I don’t know…” he felt so lost and helpless, this wrench being thrown into his master plan because up until now…

Everything was easy.  It was black and white and the end was inevitable.  Until he’d decided to come here, and suddenly…it _wasn’t_ anymore.  
  
“Dean,” Cain ordered, even though it was softly, because he felt the omega was shaken and trying desperately to keep himself together, “I’ve known you a long time.  You’re a good man.  A _strong_ man.  Why do you think I recruited you?”  
  
“B-because I was a fuckin’ stone cold killer,” he blurted out, almost afraid to meet the alpha’s gaze.  
  
With a humorless snort, Cain sounded disappointed, but it was directed at himself, “I’ve made a massive error.  I wasn’t aware you were in the dark, I’d hoped you would see this job as a kind of atonement for what happened to you overseas.  To take back control, use what they forced upon you as a tool for justice.”  
  
He patted Dean’s cheek, who felt like he was crumbling more and more with each word.  “I’ve always liked you.  Your spirit, your gumption.  You’re special.  I’m sorry I failed you.”  There was genuine remorse dripping from both his tone and his scent.  
  
Dean...was speechless.  Any word he tried to form would have choked him, so he could only begin to step backwards.

“I’m happy you have a driver with you today.  At the very least,” Cain stared him down as he ordered, “go home.  Sleep.  I worry about you.  If you need anything, you’re welcome back anytime, now that you know the true reason we exist.  I _mean_ that.”

Dean met his eyes with the same intensity and nodded, “All right.  Thank you.  I’ll…get going.”

Everything was a blur as he staggered back through the lobby, received a judgey look from the receptionist and all but stumbled out the front door to see Castiel waiting for him in the car parked at the curb.  He knew he must have looked like shit, because in the blink of an eye, the alpha was out of the car and rushing around to meet him before he could even reach the passenger side door.

Those blue eyes were filled with worry when he demanded, “Dean?  Are you alright?!”

“No, I’m not,” he blurted out all at once and didn’t hesitate to use Cas as a human crutch when the alpha reached him just in time to ensure he didn’t end up on the ground, as the weight of finally fucking _everything_ crashed down around him.  “Can I ask you one more favor?”

“Of course.  Anything,” Cas’ voice was still so earnest and attentive, while his strong body held him close, his scent protective.

From where Dean’s face was buried in the crook of the alpha’s neck, he slowly pronounced, “Can you drive me home to my mate?” and it caused Castiel’s body to completely lock up.

A moment of silence passed between them, and it took a while before the alpha spoke again.  There were knots tied up in Dean’s stomach, because, _fuck_ , he _hated_ that he had done this to Cas, and now he had to ask him to-

“Y-yes,” his voice was even, and he went the extra mile to open the car door for Dean and help him slide in with an unwavering, “Let’s get you home.”

\----------------------

The drive to Dean’s house was tense and mostly silent.  They listened to the hum of the road, the squeaks that followed as small potholes jarred the car’s otherwise smooth ride and the rev of the engine as Castiel accelerated when stop lights turned green.

Dean was wound tighter at this moment than he was when he’d been prepared to end it all.  Now, very suddenly, he seemed to be _more_ afraid _to live_.  While he shrunk in the passenger seat, an anxiety kept spinning tighter and tighter in his chest, as though it was wrapping around his lungs, constricting them and making it hard to breathe.

He watched all the street signs pass.  He watched as the morning begin to brighten the horizon and give way to the full light of day.  His head throbbed from the amount of alcohol he and Castiel had drunk the night before, but back then he was living it up in the grandeur of the moment: which believed _were_ his last moments.  He groaned  internally thinking about the amount of cash he’d dropped on random expenses: booze, Jo’s ferociously extravagant (but well earned and well deserved, he had to remember) tip, the goddamn swanky honeymoon suite...

But…he supposed it actually mattered very little in the grand scheme of things.  He knew Cain thought a lot of him.  Dean had known that from Day One.  As well as Cain knew and understood him, he probably realized exactly how close Dean had come to completely losing it right before his eyes this morning and his severance pay would probably more than serve as a compensation for what he had just gone through.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine the “final payment” that would wind up in his secret bank account at some point.

Right now, money was the last thing on his mind.

The only thing he could think about now was his mate.

All too soon, the car juddered to a halt after pulling into the driveway in front of the suburban two-story house.  The same one Dean had called home for the past five and a half years.

The same one he’d paused outside of the previous night before leaving, taking in and memorizing every minute detail.

From the potted plants along the steps leading up to the porch, to the swing Dean had _insisted_ they install, because he’d always had fond memories of the one his parents had when he was just a kid.  This house, this off-white building with sun-faded sage green shutters, had called to him, pulling him back to its warmth and safety, and…now here he was.  Wishing he could just step across the threshold and pretend like the previous night was nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

Dean continued to stare ahead as he inhaled deeply, unsure of what to say to Castiel, but the alpha cut him off before he had to decide.

“When…” he huffed, and Dean caught the sight of dark hair as the man shook his head at the edge of his peripheral vision.  “When I found your suicide note, I didn’t know _what_ to do.  I only knew that I couldn’t just stay here and fall apart.  I needed to _act_.  I needed to _find you_.”

The omega felt shame as he cast his eyes down toward his lap and said, “You caught me off guard, you know?”  He chuckled lightly and sighed, “When I saw you there, I was two seconds away from runnin’, Cas.  But when you introduced yourself, blindsided me like _that_?  Heh, I had to see it through.  See _what_ the fuck kinda stunt you were pulling, because you’ve always been so damn _clever_.”    
  
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face when he admitted, “I really didn’t think you’d track me down.  And…your eyes were so red.  I knew you’d been crying.  I could just imagine you pacing the floor of our house, tearing your hair out and _hating me_ because of the things I’d done…I couldn’t stand to think about how much I’d hurt you but…”  he actually chuckled, “then you came at me.  With a friggin _smile_ , even though I'd confessed to being a fucking  _murderer_.  Knew I couldn’t say no to that.  Couldn’t say no to _you_.  And whatever the hell you were planning.”

“I thought that maybe it was because I wasn’t enough for you.  Maybe if we were different people…just for the night...maybe I could figure out what it was you _needed_.  What it was that _I_ wasn’t giving you,” Castiel choked on his words and clutched the steering wheel of the Impala tightly.  “And, at least that way, I would have the chance to be there with you until the end.  I knew I couldn't change things, I knew I‘d never convince you to back out, but I hoped I-I could spend whatever time you had left by your side.  Try to make you smile, _try_ to-”

Dean finally whipped around to focus on his mate and hissed in disbelief, “You have _always_ been enough.   _God_ , Cas, you’ve been _more_ than enough.  You’re fucking _perfect_!  It’s me.  I couldn’t live with myself.  If there was anything you read, _anything_ I was trying to get across, it was that.”  He swallowed the lump in his throat when Castiel finally looked at him.  “I…couldn’t deal with it anymore.  The killing, the hiding from you, the lies.  You’re a fuckin’ _cop_ , for God's sake!  I’d knew I’d eventually end up dragging you down with me, I-”

“Can we go inside?”  His eyes were pleading, the bright morning sun making them shine that pure blue Dean had fallen so deeply in love with.  “We need to talk.  Really, truly talk.  And I don’t want to do it in your car, with that gun on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, babe.”  He stumbled over the affirmation and gripped the handle of the door.  It creaked loudly when he threw it open and again when he sent it crashing shut.

Castiel’s confidence from the previous night had withered.  His fatigue had caused him to all but collapse on himself as they left the Impala behind.  Then the alpha reached back for his mate’s hand.  They ascended the steps to their home.  

Together.  

Cas found the house’s key on the ring and unlocked the front door, leading Dean straight up the stairs into their bedroom.

They didn’t have to turn on any lights, but the handwritten letter was a jarring reminder, sitting (crumpled at the edges from Cas’ fists as he read it over and over again) smack-dab in the middle of their bed.

Dean was the one who reached for it and leaned in to kiss the alpha, shredding it into pieces while their lips tenderly brushed together.  He wadded up the torn paper and didn’t even simply throw it away.  Instead, he walked into the adjoining bathroom.

The omega went the extra mile to flush the pieces down the toilet, attempting to get it as far away from them as fucking possible.  Trying to send it down the pipes and ship it out so they could (hopefully) forget.  After the evidence was destroyed and long gone, the lack of tangible proof was the beginning of fading the memory.

When he returned, Cas had already pulled off his jacket.  Dean smiled at the shirt, stepping up into the man’s space and tugging at it, “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Wear your ratty old band tee?”  He asked with a raised eyebrow.  “Maybe.  Or maybe it was the first thing that I could find.  It was on the floor and I was…in a hurry.”

“You know how much I like it when you wear my clothes,” Dean let his hands trace the hem before he pulled it over Cas’ head.  “But…if we’re going to talk, I want to do it in bed.  In pajamas that don’t smell like that drug den of a bar.”

“Fair enough.”

The mated pair took their time as they undressed one another and then grabbed the flannel bottoms from their chest of drawers.  Dean’s heart skipped a beat when Cas’ hand wrapped around the handle of the gun and gave him a significant look.  The omega didn’t hesitate as he nodded and Cas tucked it away in the nightstand - out of sight, out of mind.  They only bothered with pants before they turned to lay down.  Cas crawled in first, holding the sheets back for Dean to join him, and propped himself up on a pillow so he could face the omega.  

So they could speak easily, because he had so many questions.

But…he had no idea which one to voice first.

All Castiel could do was take that moment to drink in the sight of his mate as he lay beside him.  It was something so small but so precious, because it was something he thought he’d lost forever, but somehow…Dean was _still here_.  He was still in front of him, in their bed, and a strange part of him felt like he was looking at ghost.

“What was it?”  Cas finally asked, as he reached out to take Dean’s hand that was idly tracing shapes against the comforter.  “What made you…”

“Snap?”  He looked up and met Cas’ eyes guiltily.  “Everything.  I just… _couldn’t._  Not anymore.  But the real breaking point was on my way home from the garage, I saw a family.”  Dean squeezed his eyes closed before he mustering the courage to say it.  

“I thought to myself…wow.  I wonder if Cas and I could ever have a family.  But then suddenly, it turned into me wondering if we even had a _future_.  I knew you’d find out about me eventually.  It had to happen one of these days.  No way we’d last.  Then,” the broken gasp was ripped from his lungs, “I thought about how many families _I_ had ruined.  How many broken homes _I_ had created.  How many kids I’d left fucking orphans.  How the fuck could I even think about wanting some kind of _happiness_ when I’m literally a living, breathing tool of destruction?”

“It was in that moment that I-I hit rock bottom.  It slapped me in the face.  I realized that I didn’t deserve to be here, that we were destined to fail, that I was leaving nothing but carnage everywhere I went and _I needed_ to be stopped.”  When he looked up, Castiel looked confused, and he knew exactly why.  “Cas...even if I got out of the life?  I couldn’t live with the things that I’d done.  I couldn’t let myself be happy with you with all that blood on my hands.  You deserve _so_ much _more_.  So much better than me.”

The alpha knew it was better not to try to argue with Dean, even when he was mired in self-recrimination.  He realized he had to prove him wrong, rather than debate him verbally.

“What I said…at the bar,” Castiel began after a thoughtful lull in the conversation.  “About me not running into any of your kills?  I meant it.  Well, I meant _half_ of it.  Your…targets.  They’re _not_ innocent: they’re criminals.  They’re killers and rapists, ones that _we_ haven’t been able to catch, which was why I didn’t understand why you-”

“What?”  Dean abruptly cut him off, “You fucking _knew_?!”

With his mouth slightly gaped in surprise, the alpha phrased his words very, very carefully.  “You…were not aware?”

That made Dean bolt up out of bed and stare at his mate.  “Woah!  Back up!  You knew about _me_?  About what I was _doing_?  And you knew about the targets?!”  Dean demanded incredulously, “No!  I didn’t fucking know they were _criminals_!  Not until I went to speak with my boss on my farewell tour this morning!  What the hell, Cas?!”

Castiel followed him and surged upward, grabbing his shoulders and ordering, “Deep breaths, Dean.”  Then, with a crooked grin, he shrugged and admitted, “I was trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject.  I’d only recently put the pieces together.”

The alpha scooted even closer.  He craved being near his mate, especially after coming so close to losing him forever.  Cupping the side of Dean's face, he said, “We’ve known each other a long time.  Even _before_ we were together.  When you were overseas, a part of you was different when you returned.  I was here for the nightmares.  I was here for all of it, and it didn’t really surprise me when I solved the mystery.”  There was an ironic, forced smile on his face,  “I was going to tell you that you were playing with fire, with this…moonlighting job.  I wasn't scared you'd get hurt, no, you're too good.  I was scared something like _this_ would happen.”  His voice held a slight tremble but his eyes never left the omega’s.

“You knew all of that and you didn’t just arrest me and send me to the loony bin?”  Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed and he spoke with utter disbelief.  “Cas.  You _knew_ that I was a fucking _murderer_!  And you… _you_ -”

“My moral compass is a bit ambiguous.  You should know.  You mated me, after all.”  He tilted his head and with fondness in his voice said,  “Once everything clicked, I did my research and came up with a profile.  Then I compared the dates of the murders and the nights you were ‘out with your brother.’  That is, after I realized you two haven’t spoken in years.  And…it turned out you took care of criminals our department couldn’t have touched due to lack of evidence nor even found.  When I said “we” haven’t come across any of your kills, I meant the department.  But _I_ retraced your steps.  That’s how I figured out who your victims were and that you were dispensing vigilante justice to people that deserved it.  It's why I didn't try to stop you...and why I blame myself for not bringing it up sooner.  I’m assuming that’s what you figured out at your meeting this morning, since you seemed quite convinced last night that you were a cold-blooded killer of innocent men.”

Castiel finished with a quivering tone, “I-I believe that visit is why you’re still with me, today.”

“God, Cas-” Dean hurt.  _Every_ fucking _inch_ of his being - his soul, his fucking _everything_ \- was heartbroken now that he was faced with his mate, all but wrecked and raw, in front of him.

His mate, who had already _known_.  Who’d already _accepted him_.  Who still _loved_ him, even after all the terrible things that he’d done.  And Dean was just going to pack up and cash out like a fucking coward, leaving this amazing man behind because of his selfish, broken-

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he gushed and shook his head. “I’m an idiot.  I just couldn’t see any other way out of the shit that I’d done-”

“That you _thought_ you’d done,” Cas swiftly interrupted him and pressed their foreheads together.  “I’m not excusing your actions, but…if these men you killed were on the other side of my gun in the field?  I would have pulled the trigger, too.  I was merely never given the opportunity.  Let’s just forget about it.  Forget about the violence, forget about what happened last night and, _please_ , tell me what you need from me to make things better.  What can I do to help?”

Dean’s mouth was completely dry, because he didn’t understand what he’d done to earn _this_ , to deserve this amazing alpha.  “Cas, how can you even look at me?  How can you even _begin_ to forgive me?”

He pulled away and the omega watched as his pensive, desperate expression softened into something akin to disbelief.  Then Cas pulled the omega forward to press a kiss to his brow.  “Because I’m in love with you.  And _nothing_ is worth losing you.  I…I told you.  If I’d just spoken to you sooner, if I’d figured it out more quickly-” he huffed, “last night wouldn’t have even happened.  It _shouldn’t_ have happened.  I _failed you_ as your alpha.”

“No!  No, Jesus, Cas!”  Dean pulled away in bafflement and shook his head wildly, “Stop blaming yourself!  This is all me, this is-”

His heart was racing all over again and he gulped down hard, “We’ll fix this.  Us.  Come here,” he waved his hand until the alpha was within striking distance.

Then Dean tackled him onto the bed, forcing Cas onto his back so he could cling to his chest and bury his face in the crook of alpha’s neck.

He scented him deeply, as Castiel’s arms flew up and wrapped around him.  The omega couldn’t help but seal his lips to the mating bite on Cas’ neck.  It was like a security blanket, proof of their bond and something he needed right then.  Dean also tangled their legs together and made it his duty to wedge them as close as physically possible, holding him tightly, because this?  This was the _only_ thing that truly mattered.

He should have remembered.

Now he’d never forget.

“I love you, so much, Cas.  I’m sor-”

Castiel ducked his head and expertly silenced him with another kiss.  He nuzzled the top of his omega‘s head and announced, “We’re moving past it.  Like it never happened.  We’re starting fresh.”

The knot in Dean’s gut…it was slowly unraveling because Cas’ scent?  It said that the alpha _truly_ believed his words.  He meant them with everything he had, as he clutched Dean just as tightly.  And that made _Dean_ believe, too, and he could deal with that.  
  
“When you think…” Cas started in, almost shyly, “about us.  And how we _will_  start over..."  It was as though he was working up the courage, trying to form the words of something that was important.  Finally, the alpha said, "You mentioned your breaking point.  And how much it affected you, how it drove you to the brink last night.  But perhaps...with this new chapter, would you ever consider…”  
  
Dean’s chest seized up with a completely different emotion.  Something foreign that he hadn’t felt in a damn long time.  It felt a lot like excitement and, hell, it felt a lot like  _hope_.  
  
“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”  
  
He rested his cheek against the omega’s tousled hair and hummed, “I suppose I understand why it was never on your radar before.  Why we never discussed even the possibility.  But now if things are different and we're being truly honest with one another, I won't deny it.  I’ve always wanted a family with you, Dean.  If you do.”  
  
And, fuck, if that wasn’t something worth living for, Dean didn’t know what was.  
  
“You’re serious?  You better not be messing with me, or-”  
  
“No, never.”  The alpha chuckled and whispered with barely contained delight, “...is that something you’d want?”  
  
“Yeah, Cas.  I really, really would,” Dean readily admitted, voice covered in awe and he held his mate tight.  
  
Dean couldn’t believe that after everything, he was being granted (not only another chance) the prospect of something even more incredible.  The future wasn’t just something that was going to happen, it was something he was looking forward to and he didn’t know what or how it would've been imaginable without Cas.  God, he was so fucking lucky.    
They could _have this._   Dean was finally walking out of the shadows that had blinded him and into the sun...where his mate had been waiting for him all along.

But then, a thought crept into Dean’s head and he couldn’t help but ask aloud a certain question with an impish little grin, “Before we forget about _everything_...I can’t help but notice that you never answered, by the way.”

“What?”  There was a bit of sleepy confusion in Cas’ voice as he began to nod off, from not only physical, but also emotional, exhaustion.

“Our game last night.  You never told me your answer.”

Castiel could feel his mate’s smirk against his chest, and he couldn’t help the outright laugh that erupted from his body.  “Oh, yes.  Of course.”  With a snort, he paused thoughtfully, then declared, “I’d like to expire from too much sex with my gorgeous, mischievous, troublemaker of a mate.”  With a kiss to Dean’s forehead, he finished with, “Although I don’t plan on dying any time soon, after I sleep off this hangover I believe I’ll push my boundaries by seeing how many times I can make love to him.  Especially, now that we have a goal to accomplish.”

“Oh yeah?”  Dean raised an eyebrow and his scent flared up with interest and unconditional adoration.  “I think that’s a damn good plan.”

“Sleep, first.”

That was something Dean had no problem with.  The way he was feeling, he could probably sleep for a week.  So he nestled himself in closer and agreed, “Mm.  I’m glad I met you last night, Castiel Novak.”

A warm smile stretched across the alpha's face.  “And I, you, Dean Winchester.”


End file.
